Coming Over for Christmas
by BlackRoseGirl666
Summary: SEQUEL TO HOUSE GUESTS! When the BBA Bladers are forced to take cover in the Blitzkrieg Boys apartment during the BBA's Christmas party, everyone knew it was going to be bad. They just didn't know how bad. RATED FOR: Kissing, Swearing, Pranks, Violence and Sarcasm!
1. Twas the Night Before Hell Broke Loose

**Kai Pov:**

I barely restrain a groan as yet another overly peppy, repetitive and yet somehow considered a 'new classic' Christmas song starts blaring from the speakers positioned all around the room.

God, how can people stand all this happy crap? Fuck, I've only been here for an hour and a half and I'm already considering jumping off the roof.

Or maybe I'll just settle for pouring some of the obviously-spiked, festively red punch sitting in the Christmas tree covered punch bowl placed on the un-manned marble bar over a few of the speakers. You know, seeing as we're currently being hit by the world's worst blizzard right now and Spencer wouldn't let me bring any bullets to this thing.

And slitting wrists is just too messy for me anymore.

Hem, hem…

Anyway, on to (slightly) less depressing and entirely (kind of) happier things.

Courtesy of Mr. Dickinson (damn him), the teams that participated in that last little tournament thing we did have been gathered together for a Christmas party that's apparently meant to help us "clear the air" about the events of the last tournament.

Heh, yeah right.

I've never seen a tenser gathering of teenagers in my life. And that's saying something, considering I'm from the Abbey, where being a tense, suspicious, slightly-less-sane-than-the-rest-of-the-world child weapon was a requirement if you wanted to live.

Sighing in utter boredom, I allow myself to glance around the room, my gaze immediately seeking out my Hilary amongst the masses of festively dressed bladers and then sticking on her for what's probably going to be for the rest of the evening.

I smile dreamily to myself; she looks stunning.

She's wearing some long, red, strapless dress made out of some kind of glossy material with a slit to the knees that I'm sure came from her aunt's closet with a thick black shiny leather belt around her waist that I'm used to seeing around her hips while wearing a pair of jeans and converse. Her chocolaty brown hair is up in some kind of twist with a poinsettia (don't ask me why I recognize the flower) pin holding it in place. Her bangs fall freely into her dark brown eyes and I catch a flash of gold when she pushes a curl away from her painted face.

She's standing by the wall of windows opposite me and twirling a fluted champagne glass filled with red punch in her shoulder-length white silk-gloved hand. Beside her is Mariah from the White Tigers, who she's chatting and laughing with but I can still tell she's about as bored as I am.

She always plays with whatever jewelry is closest when she's bored and right now she's fiddling with the diamond studded tennis bracelet she got last year from some friend of her aunt's.

I smile a little and return my attention to my own drink, thankful that Tala had the forethought to bring something a little stronger with him because while the red stuff might be spiked (I saw Johnny slip it in during Mr. D's opening speech, funny what bored rich kids get up to isn't it?) I know for a fact that it will do scratch to kill my boredom compared to the stuff I grew up with in Russia.

* * *

**Hilary Pov:**

I take in a deep breath and laugh again as Mariah carries on with her story, something about Garry and the last pancake, I think. I haven't been really paying attention to what she's saying as of now and haven't been for the good majority of this "party".

I say party with the quotations because of seen dead fish with more partying spirit than this group.

Though I guess it's justified. I mean, parties are where you get together with people you know and care about to have fun. Personally, I know I hate or have at _least_ a strong dislike for about half of the people here.

That and the music sucks.

Seriously, if it hadn't been for the fact that I've attended many such high-class "parties" in my young life then I'm sure I would have started banging my head against the wall at least an hour ago. Or maybe (If we weren't dating in secret) kidnapped my boyfriend and disappeared for a while.

Unfortunately, I have this nagging feeling both would be frowned upon.

But anyway, back to the dullness.

I mean sure, it's nice to see the girls and all but I'd be much happier if I could invite them over instead of having to dress up and waltz around pretending to be nice to people you'd like to throw off a balcony (i.e. Brooklyn Kingston, Garland Siebald and Ming-Ming Love).

Who the fuck has "Love" as their last name anyway? And yes, I do understand that that's a "much needed" stage name, but really? I heard she even has it on her bloody passport! I mean, like, what the hell? Not like she's so fucking great anyway…

Now, before you go ahead and write me off as a bitch for trashing Ming X2, I'd like to explain just why I hate "sweet, adorable" little Ming-Ming.

You see, my very-well-founded-despite-what-Kenny-says hate of the Ming-Bitch started, well, I'd say the week after Kai woke up and we'd had our first (of many) little make-out session(s) under the noses of the media (who had by then swarmed the hospital like a pack of sharks to fresh blood) and hospital staff (who had pretty much set a permanent guard outside Kai's room after I accidentally pulled his heart monitor off during that first time) and our two teams (who might as well have set up camping equipment right then and there because I'm sure it would have been more comfortable than the chairs most of them wound up sleeping on).

Anyway, at first the Bitch (as I've taken to calling her in my head) showed up just once or twice a week with the excuse that she just felt "so, so bad" about what happened and wanted to make sure that "everything was absolutely A-OK!"

And me, being the caring, sweet person I am, let this continue on for another two weeks.

Or at least I did, until I started noticing that the skirts the Slut Queen was wearing had gone from knee length to thigh length, the heels had gone from non-existent to six-inch and the shirts had gotten so low-cut and tight I sometimes wondered how she did not freeze during the walk from the car to the hospital.

I mean we were in Russia after all, and let me tell you, Russia in September is the absolute third last place you want to be caught in wearing a skirt.

The first spots belonging to the Artic and Russia in December, respectively.

Sighing, I lean back against the window-wall and cast a glance out at the polished hardwood dance floor.

All the World Class teams have been invited to Mr. D's (mandatory) Christmas Party to help clear the air between us after the Tag-Team Tournament which, in case you've been living under a rock for the last year and a half and don't know about, ended with Kai being knocked into a comma by Garland and the Bladebreakers and Blitzkrieg Boys Tag-Team coming out as the winners, which was considered one of the biggest surprises of Beyblade history, right up there with Tyson's winning the World Championships consecutively three times and the BBA's huge comeback after BEGA.

On top of that I also had a "minor" meltdown after seeing my long-time boyfriend crumple to the ground smoking and bleeding like he'd been hit by lightning.

And yet even after my complete breakdown on stage, in front of the roughly 5.3 million people who'd tuned into watch the matches, whilst holding Kai's limp body in my arms, no one's figured out that Kai and I are a couple yet.

I'm not sure whether to be grateful about this or scared that I am part of a generation made up of such density.

After that I kind of passed out from the stress of it all but from what I managed to gather upon my awakening was that everything had been pretty much hushed up and swept under the rug by the Blitz-Boys and the BBA both.

Well, actually, I guess everyone _but_ the Bladebreakers were kept in the dark, actually.

Bryan kind of blew most of our secrets whilst giving the Bladebreakers crap over how they were treating Kai, much to Kai's displeasure mind you, because now they're treating him like a piece of fine crystal and he's apparently had it up to here with them stepping around him like he's made of melting ice.

And, while I've been yapping to you in my head, Mariah's been rambling on to me about everything and anything, though, surprisingly, it is mostly about Bryan.

Like how he was "so amazing" while he was battling with Ray and how it was so "super" of him to say something to the Bladebreakers about how they've been treating their captain, and how "great" Bryan's eyes are…

Yup, she went there.

Can you believe this girl still denies her utter infatuation with said blader?

Like I said before, this generation: DENSE!

I sigh again and tilt my head at her, not that she notices. Her gaze is unconsciously searching the crowd for the subject of her denied obsession. Bryan. I don't have the heart to tell her he's not attending.

Mariah pouts slightly when she realizes he's not present before she starts babbling again, this time about how annoying her village has been lately.

And there, right there, is the basis for my theory of why Mariah likes Bryan and why they'd be perfect for each other!

Now for my actual theory, which goes like this:

You see, after hours upon hours of hearing Mariah bitch about it, I have deduced that she hates how controlled and, in her words not mine, "safe" her village is.

Of course she also usually spews on about the lack of fashion, electronics and electricity as well but that's the basics of it. She hates being controlled and the lack of thrills involved with living in such a small, isolated and, let's face it, downright _ancient_ village.

Whereas with Bryan, he might just be slightly too dangerous on his own and no, I don't mean to other people!

You see Bryan's an adrenalin junkie of the highest order. He's been known to do everything from sky diving to bungee jumping to illegal car races and his personal favorite of street blading; a very dangerous, possibly deadly, version of stadium blading known for its ruthlessness and the fact that physical contact while blading is allowed.

So the way I see it they'd be perfect for each other! Mariah would get the danger and freedom she wants and Bryan would have something other than himself to risk when he goes off on one of his dare devil adventures, see? It's a win-win situation!

Or, of course, I could be totally wrong and the entire relationship could blow up like the Ring of Fire...

But on to happier things, like clothes!

Like everyone at the party (myself included) Mariah's outfit is based off of some kind of Christmas related thing. I chose to do a Mrs. Clause representation, with a frilly little red skirt and a pretty beaded white blouse. My Aunt Hana then overhauled it until I looked like the Mrs. Clause out of a Christmas elfin variation of a pinup girl.

Mariah chose snowflakes.

I, having the Aunt that I do, didn't have the guts to do snowflakes.

But, unlike me, Mariah doesn't have a high-society, high-fashion snob for family and managed to pull it off without looking the least bit over dressed.

Casting a look at her I mentally nod to myself, she looks very pretty in a white gown that goes to the knees with a ballerina skirt. The bodice is sleeveless and made of silk with layer of lace over top and a silver sash tied in a bow around her waist. Silver snowflake oriented jewelry hangs from her ears, wrists, fingers and neck and a pair of cute silver satin heels with a peek toe cover her feet.

Her long pink hair is out and curled into twists with fake snow sprinkled liberally on it while her lips and eyes are painted icy blue and her cheeks are dusted with more fake snow.

All in all Mariah looks amazing, like she usually does, but as I've said before, Bryan is known to be denser than an Alaskan icecap and unless she makes her move quick he might get snapped up by someone-

"Oh, Kai! It's so nice to see you! How are you doing by the way?"

Gods be cursed, I'd know that voice anywhere! It be the Heeled Whore, and she makes to put a move on my man!

This be-ith a declaration-ith of war! … ith!

Hem, hem.

Erm, excuse the old-in-times speak please, I think I got a bit caught up in the moment there for a second…

But, anyway!

I shoot daggers with my eyes as I watch the Bitch's perfectly coiffed blue curls bounce as she dances up to my Kai, who (bless him) stares at her with the likeness of a, well, a man being stocked by a slut, I guess. And a particularly slutty slut at that.

Said Bitch (who is dressed in a short gold dress with a fluffy white halo headband) wasted not a second before shooting a decidedly nauseating little smirk/smile over her bare shoulder at me before going back to talking with my (secret) boyfriend.

I silently curl my free hand into a fist, oh yes Bitch, this means war.

And if I've ever learned one thing from my Aunt, it's that even if a Tatibana never starts a social clash, they always, always, win them.

* * *

**Okay well if you haven't picked up on it yet this is the beginning of the sequel for my story House Guests! Which you will need to read first so you don't get messed up with the story line and crap. Now, I just wanted to say thanks to all the people who Reviewed/Favorited/Alerted on House Guests and asked for a sequel! Anyway, I only really got around to writing it because the ever-awesome kbwinx told me to get off my ass and do so (but nicer) so hear it is! Please, read, enjoy and Review!**

**Please Review!**

**Bye!**

**BlackRoseGirl666**


	2. And To All a Good Night! Not

**Spencer Pov:**

As much as we're trying to turn over a new leaf and you know, stop lying and being violent and mean and all that stuff...I just couldn't help it!

There was no way in _hell_ that I was going to be able to survive my teammates at that Christmas dance thing! I mean sure, if it was just Tala, Kai and I it would have been a nice evening, maybe even fun, but with Bryan and Ian? It would have been hell on earth!

So instead of endangering all those innocent people in there at the party, I literally got on my knees and begged and pleaded with Kai to lie to Mr. Dickinson and get us out of it, and, guess what? It worked!

So as of right now Ian is sick with the flu, Bryan broke his leg snowboarding and I'm sacrificing my nice evening to look after both the idiot - I mean my ill team-mates - out of the kindness of my heart.

But in reality, Bryan and Ian are decorating Kai's extremely (re: _ridiculously_) huge apartment for Christmas! And what am I doing while my teammate slave over tinsel and lights trying to make this place into a Christmas wonderland?

I'm making sure Bryan doesn't strangle Ian with the tinsel and that Ian doesn't somehow cause a house fire while putting the lights on the tree.

Sigh, what a life.

Also on top of this, I was (mostly because no one else in this group can cook without putting us all in the hospital or blowing something up) dumped with all the festive cooking.

Meaning I have (yet again) been forced to boarded myself up in the kitchen with the intention of not coming out until I have at least half this list done, and it's a huge freaking list! I mean jeez, this list is just about as tall as me, and, if you haven't already noticed, I'm pretty damn tall!

"Twerp, if you don't stop hitting me with that garland I'm going to strangle you with it!"

"You'll have to catch me first, you big, dumb pigeon!"

"Grrrrrrrr!"

CRASH!

Sigh. It's twelve days until Christmas and why couldn't I have normal teammates?

* * *

**Kai Pov:**

I sigh and cast another quick look at the clock, which reads just past nine, before turning my attention back to my girlfriend, who somehow manages to catch my eye and give me a near deathly bored look that makes me smile.

Ever since you last heard from me I've managed to move myself from my previous spot and to the (rather pathetic looking) bar, where I've spent the last hour pouring and downing red punch spiked with something that makes my fingers warm but doesn't burn my throat and glaring at the clock a little ways away from me, waiting for the damn thing to strike ten so we can all go home.

Or as close to home as we can get, based off the fact that we're all in New York, don't ask me why. I swear Dickinson just spins a globe around and then sticks a push pin on some random place and then calls us all there.

Tala's leaning against the wall opposite me (i.e. the same wall as Hilary) scanning the crowd, although his gaze tends to linger on Julia from F Dynasty for a little longer than standard, which gives me the feeling that my best friend might have a crush...

And as I'm so completely focused on Tala's possible crush on Julia, I don't even realize Ming-Ming's there until she starts shoving some kind of drink in my face blabbering about something useless.

I mean, damn! She just goes on and on and on and never shuts the hell up!

Never mind the fact she dresses like she works in a strip club (don't ask me how I know); she also has the most ridiculously high voice in the history of sports. Plus, she can never seem to talk about something not-clothes-related.

Or at least, that's how she presents herself. Honestly though I wouldn't take anything she does at face value, I mean hell, just look at her blading. She can't be that much of an air head if she has those kinds of scores. Plus, she was trained by Boris and survived; that alone means she's more than meets the eye.

Still though, she's not my favorite person to be around; if not because of her bubbly mask then because Hilary always throws a fucking fit when she sees us together, not that she'll bloody tell me why-

"So what do you think Kai?" Oh wait, she was talking to me? Of course she was. It's not like she ever shuts up. Or, perhaps, maybe goes and talks to someone who might actually like her… attention. Like Michael. Or someone else with an ego the size of the sun. Or someone who is just not me.

In my perfect world people (things) like her would not exist. But then again, also in my perfect world fan girls would be outlawed, Mr. Dickinson would not be allowed to use his "innocent-old-man" voice, Tyson would train when asked and Bryan and Ian would declare peace with each other.

And what a nice, nice world it would be…

But back to reality. I have absolutely no idea what she's taking about and even worse Hilary's heading over here like she preparing for a one-woman war. Nuclear weapons and all.

Sigh, why can't I just have a normal life?

And then, as if by cue, the lights go out.

We wish you a Merry Christmas, indeed.

* * *

**Mr. Dickinson Pov:**

I blink absently as the lights flicker off around me, leaving me staring blankly at the darkness where my papers used to be. Turning from I desk I cast a look out at the weather, which has been steadily worsening all night, and find my window near-completely whited-out!

Turning away from the copious amounts of white falling from the sky, I hastily pluck my cellphone from my pocket before dialing the number of the BBA's head maintenance man for this building, Douglas, and ask him a flurry of questions.

After twenty minutes of discussing the general situation, I've reached my decision.

According to Douglas, the lights will not be on until at least the end of the week if the storm persists as predicted and the heat in the building will soon begin to drop spectacularly as well. This of course means that I simply cannot ask all those young people downstairs to wait the storm out in the dark.

Roads and hotels I suspect will either be all blocked or booked by now as well, meaning that my only real option is to call in a favor from a certain group of bladers with an apartment in this city that is big enough to house the rest of the teams.

Taking up my nifty little cellphone once again, I cheerfully dial in Kai's phone number. I'm sure he'll be willing to help out his fellow bladers…

* * *

**Kai Pov:**

Well, this is just so fucking great!

I sigh moodily and cast a look around me, pivoting on my left foot because about half my body is currently encased in a vaguely boa constrictor-like hug, before glaring poison out at the assembled group of idiots that surround me.

As soon as the lights went out about oh, maybe twenty or thirty minutes ago, Ming-Ming shrieked and jumped about a foot in the air (in six inch heels, which is rather impressive) before latching herself onto my arm with a death grip of the aforementioned snake. The other bladers then took that as the cue to start freaking out (some swearing, some yelling, some just being plain stupid).

Not to mention that several 'unnamed individuals' (i.e. Daichi, Kenny, Max… ect) all suddenly rediscovered their fear of the dark and proceeded to huddle together in a corner of the ballroom.

The girls (with the exception of my lovely Hilary) have all taken up complaining about how cold it's getting, and, to add to the chaos that's engulfed this place, something is continually playing a portion of what I _think_ is a Hollywood Undead song!

Oh wait, that's my phone...

Sighing at the utter annoyance of it all, I somehow manage to shake Ming-Ming off my arm for a second only for her to trade it off for my waist.

Sigh.

But whatever. After casting a mildly annoyed look at her I fish my phone out of my white tux jacket and tap the screen of the red cased iPhone Touch with my newly freed hand and then press it to my ear.

"Hiwatari speaking." I snap coldly. This, after all, is my work number and I can't risk someone from Hiwatari Corp hearing the weariness in my voice. That place is fucking _full_ of sharks who'd just _love_ to catch me at a bad moment.

Really though I'm hoping that it _is_ actually something to do with the company and not the police calling to tell me that my apartment's gone up in flames due to someone in the building blowing something up.

Because we _all_ know who'd be responsible for that.

"Yes, Kai is that you?"

No, it's the fucking ester bunny, why? Of course it's me you old coot! Or at least that's what I'd like to say but instead I stick with: "Yeah, it's me Mr. Dickinson, what is it?"

"Well, you see, my boy,"

I'm not you goddamn boy!

"We're having a bit of a problem with the heating and lighting in the building,"

No shit, Sherlock.

"And with the roads and hotels closing down so quickly..."

I really don't like where this is going...

"I was wondering if you might mind, if maybe it's not too much trouble..."

Sigh...we both know what he's about to say, and we both know I can't say no, so why the hell is he stalling?

"I was wondering if you would mind having the blading teams stay over at your apartment until the roads are clear enough to get them back to their home countries?"

Ah, Mr. Dickinson, we both know how this is going to end so why even ask?

"Fine." I growl into the phone before snapping it shut and turning to the group of panicky bladers that stand before me. Giving a heavy sigh and stretching as much as I can with Ming-Ming still stuck to my waist, I yell a nice, clear, "SHUT UP!" to my audience.

Seeing as I'm still healing (even after three months on leave from pretty much anything important or interesting) I've been rather quiet (and yes, I am aware that I'm rather anti-social to begin with) for a while now so I guess it's a bit of a shock to their systems when they hear my call for silence as that's exactly what I get. Complete, dead, silence.

It's a Christmas miracle!

All of the once panicky teens stop talking and turn toward me with large, fish-like eyes. I sigh to myself; this is not going to be a fun next few days.

"Now for those of you who didn't hear me on the phone," I say, sending a glance at the league's resident Neko-Jins, all of who look a little sheepish except for Lee who sneers (cough, cough pathetically) and glares venomously. I sigh again. Scratch the "not-fun" part and trade it for "this is going to suck", if you will.

But, with a soldier's determination, I march on through my explanation.

"I just got a call from Mr. Dickinson and as much as I hate the idea myself, you're all going to be staying with me and the Blitzkrieg Boys until the roads are cleared and the BBA can get you all too where you're going, got it?" I say in my most you-will-not–mess-with-me-if-you-want-to–live voice (previously reserved for Tyson and Tala on bad hair days).

Slipping my typical "like-I-give-a-fuck" mask onto my face I finish up my mini-briefing with a nice solid blame-redirector (possibly the best tactic I've learned from my dearest Grandfather).

"And if you have any questions or concerns feel free to complain to Mr. Dickinson, as this was his idea, and because I can assure I will not care." This stated, I fold my arms snuggly across my chest and glare blankly as everyone continues doing the (as Tala has dubbed it) 'angry-fish' impression.

In the meanwhile though, Tala himself has seemingly taken it upon himself to step up beside me and start doing what his natural instincts dictate: boss people around.

"Right, now if you'll all start moving your asses towards the front door so we can get moving before the storm gets any worse, which trust me, it will." And with that he then turns to the main doors (which I was conveniently standing in front of) and throws them open before starting to herd bladers out into the stairwell (as the elevators run on power, which we are out of, thus the current crises) like the sheep they are.

* * *

**Hope you liked that! I had fun writing it, anyway as said before this is a Sequel to House Guest but even so it still needs Reviews! And as of yet I've got a grand total of: 0 reviews! Ew, I don't like that number very much, you know unless there's a one of a two in front of it. So please! If you Love/Like this story and want to see more of it faster you got to review!**

**Please Review! I need them to type!**

**Bye!**

**BlackRoseGirl666**


	3. On the First Day of Hell

**Bryan Pov:**

Bring...Bring...Bring…

"BRYAN, COULD YOU GET THAT, PLEASE!" Spencer's voice bellows from the kitchen. I resist a wince at his tone, which I categorize as borderline-psychotic.

And if anyone should know about that, it's me.

Not that I can really he blame him (even though, technically, it is his fault…). He's boarded himself up in our bigger-than-it-has-any-right-to-be kitchen (again) like he has to feed a small army of elves in the next hour or two; it's actually kind of scary. Ian and me are too smart to go in there, though (re: scared). Especially after last time… I think I still have the scar from that whisk, Spencer's deadly with those things…

Shudder.

The last time we went in there when he was like this was during the Christmas of the year before last; it was the first one Hilary was spending with us so he'd felt extra pressured to make sure everything went smoothly.

Ian and I had volunteered to help decorate the place (like every year) while Tala and Kai went out and got a tree and then shopped for stuff we ran out off/broke the year before like tinsel, lights and a new star for the top of the tree because Ian can't catch (which is a story for another day).

Anyway, like usual, Spencer got stuck with baking which, despite all his whining, we all know he likes at least a little otherwise he wouldn't look so put out when we offer to pick up some store bought stuff.

But anyway (again), also like usual he'd locked himself away in the kitchen and baked like crazy. Now here's the one thing that drives _me_ crazy about Spencer's baking: the smell. It drifts all throughout wherever we are at the time and no matter what Ian and I do, we can never focus on what we're _supposed_ to be doing until we have at least one cookie or something.

And, instead of just giving us a fucking cookie so we'll leave him alone, Spencer insists that we wait until Tala and Kai get back before we have some.

So, us being us, we, once every year, join together with one goal in mind: to get a cookie (or something else baking-related) from Spencer's kitchen.

And, it just goes to show you why we consider Spencer our older brother (other than him being two years older than me) that we have failed, every single time, with repeatedly more violet consequences.

The last one being a ninja-ized whisk-type-thing that caused me to get seven stitches down my left calf muscle.

But, back to the present.

"Ah! ACTUALLY, I'M A LITTLE TIED UP AT THE MOMENT!" I yell back, Ian that little shit! I'm going to kill him the next time I see his little grape-like head!

That little gremlin actually had the gall to tie me up with the Christmas tree lights! I just thought he was bluffing! And if that's not bad enough, he turned them on! So now I'm going to be covered in little red spots from where the stupid things have burned me!

"WELL, THAT'S TOO DAMN BAD! DROP WHAT YOU'RE DOING AND PICK UP THE BLOODY PHONE!" Ah, the increasingly loud voice of Spencer when he's pissed... why couldn't he be quieter? Or maybe I just shouldn't have drunk that last carton of eggnog this morning…

Anyway, back to the problem at hand (literally).

The little fart (more commonly known as Ian) tied me up with my arms by my sides so I have to do the worm over to the phone, then (surprisingly successfully) I manage to shove myself up onto my knees (breaking numerous little glass lights as I go) and hit the speaker phone button on the receiver with my chin.

"Hello, you've reached the Blitzkrieg Boys, Bryan Kuznetsov speaking." I say "politely" I used to just say, "fuck off" but apparently that's "rude" or something.

"Yeah, hey Bryan it's me."

"And who is me?" I ask. I know it's Kai but I just love to piss him off.

"Bryan, shut up. I've got a fairly big problem and need to speak to Spencer so could you just give the godforsaken phone to him already?"

My eyes go wide unintentionally at the implications in Kai voice. Oh no, this is bad. Kai usually insults me back after I smart off to him like that.

"Yeah sure, one sec," I say back, normally unused caution in my voice.

"SPENCER! KAI'S ON THE PHONE FOR YOU AND APPARENTLY HE'S GOT A PROBLEM!" I yell, not really caring that I probably gave Kai a headache.

"TELL HIM YOU CAN DEAL WITH IT!" Spencer yells back, and, with a deep sigh, I relay the message to Kai.

"Spencer says to tell you to tell me so that I can deal with it." I tell him.

Blah, try saying that ten times fast.

"Fine!" He snaps back. I wince a little more at the ice lacing his words.

Hum, Kai never usually losses his patience with me...he only gets that way when he's just been drug into something by Dickinson...oh, I don't like where this is leading.

"Kai, you okay?" I ask cautiously, it's always best to approach Kai very calmly when he's in a mood like this, otherwise one might end up seriously maimed and or dead...if you're lucky...which I am not (lucky that is)...so here goes nothing!

"Okay, what did Dickinson rope you into now?" I really hope it's something small, like you know giving someone a lift or letting the Bladebreakers stay over because Tyson ate the hotel out of food or something along those lines, but hey, you all know my luck!

"Okay, well, you know how it's been snowing for a while now and the lights and heating have been flickering throughout the city?" He asks carefully. Damn, if he knows I'm going to get upset about it than it's got to be something bad.

"Yeah, I know what you're talking about, luckily this apartment's one of the best and strongest in New York so we haven't had anything bad happen." I answer. I'm now starting to piece things together but I'm still praying from the bottom of my little black heart that what I think is happening is not going to.

"Yeah… lucky." Kai says ruefully, sigh...and I feel my hopes drop...

"So anyway back to why I'm calling, you see Dickinson thought it would be a wonderful to stick all the teams at our apartment to wait out the storm." Kai finishes and I can feel his wince clearly through the phone.

Everything around me stills and the only thing that goes through my head is this: Oh Fuck!

* * *

**Kai Pov:**

"BRYAN! WHAT THE HELL HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT SWEARING ON THE PHONE?" Spencer's muffled voice from the other end of the line shouts. I wince from the close proximity and the rest of the BBA behind me does a double take, if they'd been drinking at the time…

Sigh, pull it together Kai, now's not the time for daydreaming.

I give them a droll stare as they all go back to what they were doing, i.e.: watching me from the corner of their eye like a bunch of stalkers.

I groan mentally. And these were the creepers I was letting into my house? As if the Bladebreakers weren't bad enough…

"Bryan, have you told Spencer yet or are you still sitting there in shock?" I ask, shaking my head. As much as I love the Blitzkrieg Boys, they still drive me crazy some days.

"Uh, yeah. I'm going to go with the second one but I'm going to go tell him right now." Bryan answers somewhat dazedly.

"Tell me what? Did Tala kill somebody? Or was it Kai?" Spencer calls back at a somewhat more normal tone (likely now closer to the phone), only half joking.

"Could you tell Spencer no one killed anyone but he's going to have a lot of extra cooking to do when I get there?" I can literally feel Bryan smirking over the phone at my request.

"Sure thing, Captain," The amount of evil I feel through the phone is enough to peel paint. A couple of the newer bladers behind me (Mathilda, Diachi…ect) who haven't yet experienced full on evil-psycho Bryan cringe and whimper. Ray, Hilary and the other Bladebreakers remain unfazed, having heard that voice several times during the two week of horror they experienced a few months ago.

I sigh and prepare myself for the eruption of Mount St. Spencer. If these people think Emily and Julia have tempers they've seen nothing yet.

"WHAT THE FUCKING HELL DO YOU MEAN THEN TEAMS OF THE WORLD ARE COMING TO OUR APARTMENT TO WAIT OUT THE STORM?"

Yup, and I've lost all hearing in my left ear but you want to know the scary part? I was holding the phone to my right one.

"I mean just what I said Spencer, now could you please stop yelling?" Bryan says back very calmly. I wince again and hold the phone a little farther away from my face; something tells me he's only doing that to piss Spencer off all the more...

"Bryan, shut up and give me the fucking phone!" Spencer bites back whilst trying to restrain one of the violent rants that our team has (somehow) become (in)famous for.

There's a bit of a silence while Spencer tries to calm down before tiredly saying: "And Bryan why are you tied up with Christmas lights?"

...

Oh yes, I now have no doubt that this Christmas is going to be very interesting.

Hilary Pov:

I watch Kai as he talks quietly into his bright cherry red I Phone Touch with varying degrees of annoyance and pain flittering across his face and feel my shoulders dip down a bit beneath my leather jacket.

The way I figure it, there are about two ways this could go:

1. This goes exactly as Mr. D thinks it will and everyone gets along perfectly with everyone and we all have a wonderful holiday.

Or, 2. Life happens and someone pisses someone off and someone ends up punching someone and somehow something blows up.

Now, after factoring in the Blitzkrieg Boys' Legendary Luck™, which one do you think it'll be?

…That's what I thought.

I mean, it doesn't take that much imagining. All it takes is one too many blown up egos, a few too many arrogant remarks, maybe a snide comment or two and then, well…

We all know about the snowball effect, right?

Yeah, I thought so, too.

Most people would probably think I'm exaggerating right about now, right? Like, we're all mature people, right? We can handle traveling across the world on our own, the stress of training and dealing with press; of course we can handle staying in close quarters for a bit on our own, unsupervised.

Right?

!

No. Just no.

But just in case you still don't get it, I'll take pity and write it out list style for you:

**White Tigers:** For some unknown reason (with the exception of Mariah) they all have an unrelenting hate for the Blitzkrieg Boys and Kai. Now I have absolutely no idea what the boys did to earn themselves such hate from the White Tigers, but you'd think that after all the shit the White Tigers have done to Ray and the Bladebreakers and have then been forgiven for _every time_ they'd be able to forgive Kai and the guys for whatever they did (especially with Mariah's not-so-little crush on Bryan coming into play as of late). But, for some strange reason, I just don't see anything akin to forgiveness happening in the near future and thus why their team is added to the list of **Potential Problems**.

**The PPB All-Stars:** Judy Tate has hated Kai from day one (no clue as to why). Rick and Kai are friends from when they were both still street bladers (don't ask); apparently their gangs had an alliance and they met that way and ever since then they've been fairly loyal to one another. Also, there's the fact that Bryan, Spencer and Rick tend to all go boxing and or weight lifting together when the two teams wind up in the same place. He's counted as one of the few bladers out there to be on the Blitz Boys' Christmas Card List.

Emily and Ian are friends after meeting online and then deciding to meet in person after several chats via Internet connection (talk about a shock for them!), so she's cool (also another one of the few on the Xmas Card List).

After Emily is Michael. He tried to hit on me once and has been Blitzkrieg Boy Enemy Number One (after Boris and Voltaire, that is) ever since. End of story.

Eddy's on kind of neutral ground with us; sometimes he shows up with Rick and all four of them go out to lift weights or box or whatever it is they do when they head to the sports center together and other times he just kind of tires to keep his teammates from being stupid.

All of the aforementioned friendly interaction goes on behind Judy Tate's back of course; seeing as she hates the Kai (reason unknown) and is neutral to the others. She'd probably blow a gasket if she knew.

So all in all their team fits under all three categories

**(Gag!) BEGA:** I guess Crusher and Mystel are okay. Sometimes when Bryan, Spencer and whoever else is with them at the time go out the sports center Crusher's lifting weights or doing something and they all hook up and no one's been killed yet so I can only guess that they're on good terms with each other.

And then Mystel's just too cute to really stay mad at, plus him and Ian write to each other sometime, mostly cause their youngest on their teams but it's nothing more than meaningless gossip most of the time.

As for Garland… well, this is the first time I've seen or heard from him since the last tournament (can't say I've been all that sad about the lack of communication there).

Brooklyn's here too but again, he hasn't made much effort when it comes to talking so I can only really put their team on **Neutral** (I don't even really like to count Ming-Ming because in my world she got run over by a steamroller long ago).

**The Majestics:** When Voltaire was sent to jail Kai didn't just inherit all his properties, money and businesses. Oh no, he also inherited all the invites to different high-class parties and expectations to top those parties as the Hiwataris have done since the first generation; so it was inevitable that eventually he would wind up bumping into one of the Majestics. First it was Johnny, then Robert and then all the rest. Apparently they got to talking and eventually became some kind of friends. I would consider them to go under the Not a Problem category, but none of them have ever met the other Blitz Boys like… ever, so I think I'll stick with **Neutral**.

**The Bladebreakers: Not a Problem**. The guys have dealt with them once and they'll do it again.

**F Dynasty:** I'm not even sure if they've met the Blitzkrieg Boys so I'm going to put them under the (newly made) **Neutral-Until-Proven-Otherwise** category.

**The Battalion:** These guys I'm pretty sure are Not a Problem. Spencer and Mathilda are known to spend hours chatting aimlessly when on the phone or on the off chance the bump into each other at tournaments, although as far as I know it's not romantic (but, I still think they'd make a cute couple).

As for the rest of the team Miguel's the only one we've ever met and that's only because Kai introduced him to us (I'm not completely sure how they met but I think it was something to do with bonding over psychotic trainers).

All in all, it's still twelve days until Christmas and I just can't see how this is going to turn out very peacefully.

* * *

**Yo. I'm back and ever so sorry about the lateness! But anyway, hope you enjoy the new chapter!**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed and faved and alerted! It's what keeps me going!**

**Sincerely,**

**BlackRoseGirl666**


	4. Operation Decoration!

**Spencer Pov:**

As much as we're trying to turn over a new leaf and you know, stop lying and being violent and mean and all that stuff...I just couldn't help it!

There was no way in _hell_ that I was going to be able to survive my teammates at that Christmas dance thing! I mean sure, if it was just Tala, Kai and I it would have been a nice evening, maybe even fun, but with Bryan and Ian? It would have been hell on earth!

So instead of endangering all those innocent people in there at the party, I literally got on my knees and begged and pleaded with Kai to lie to Mr. Dickinson and get us out of it, and, guess what? It worked!

So as of right now Ian is sick with the flu, Bryan broke his leg snowboarding and I'm sacrificing my nice evening to look after both the idiot - I mean my ill team-mates - out of the kindness of my heart.

But in reality, Bryan and Ian are decorating Kai's extremely (re: _ridiculously_) huge apartment for Christmas! And what am I doing while my teammate slave over tinsel and lights trying to make this place into a Christmas wonderland?

I'm making sure Bryan doesn't strangle Ian with the tinsel and that Ian doesn't somehow cause a house fire while putting the lights on the tree.

Sigh, what a life.

Also on top of this, I was (mostly because no one else in this group can cook without putting us all in the hospital or blowing something up) dumped with all the festive cooking.

Meaning I have (yet again) been forced to boarded myself up in the kitchen with the intention of not coming out until I have at least half this list done, and it's a huge freaking list! I mean jeez, this list is just about as tall as me, and, if you haven't already noticed, I'm pretty damn tall!

"Twerp, if you don't stop hitting me with that garland I'm going to strangle you with it!"

"You'll have to catch me first, you big, dumb pigeon!"

"Grrrrrrrr!"

CRASH!

Sigh. It's twelve days until Christmas and why couldn't I have normal teammates?

* * *

**Kai Pov:**

I sigh and cast another quick look at the clock, which reads just past nine, before turning my attention back to my girlfriend, who somehow manages to catch my eye and give me a near deathly bored look that makes me smile.

Ever since you last heard from me I've managed to move myself from my previous spot and to the (rather pathetic looking) bar, where I've spent the last hour pouring and downing red punch spiked with something that makes my fingers warm but doesn't burn my throat and glaring at the clock a little ways away from me, waiting for the damn thing to strike ten so we can all go home.

Or as close to home as we can get, based off the fact that we're all in New York, don't ask me why. I swear Dickinson just spins a globe around and then sticks a push pin on some random place and then calls us all there.

Tala's leaning against the wall opposite me (i.e. the same wall as Hilary) scanning the crowd, although his gaze tends to linger on Julia from F Dynasty for a little longer than standard, which gives me the feeling that my best friend might have a crush...

And as I'm so completely focused on Tala's possible crush on Julia, I don't even realize Ming-Ming's there until she starts shoving some kind of drink in my face blabbering about something useless.

I mean, damn! She just goes on and on and on and never shuts the hell up!

Never mind the fact she dresses like she works in a strip club (don't ask me how I know); she also has the most ridiculously high voice in the history of sports. Plus, she can never seem to talk about something not-clothes-related.

Or at least, that's how she presents herself. Honestly though I wouldn't take anything she does at face value, I mean hell, just look at her blading. She can't be that much of an air head if she has those kinds of scores. Plus, she was trained by Boris and survived; that alone means she's more than meets the eye.

Still though, she's not my favorite person to be around; if not because of her bubbly mask then because Hilary always throws a fucking fit when she sees us together, not that she'll bloody tell me why-

"So what do you think Kai?" Oh wait, she was talking to me? Of course she was. It's not like she ever shuts up. Or, perhaps, maybe goes and talks to someone who might actually like her… attention. Like Michael. Or someone else with an ego the size of the sun. Or someone who is just not me.

In my perfect world people (things) like her would not exist. But then again, also in my perfect world fan girls would be outlawed, Mr. Dickinson would not be allowed to use his "innocent-old-man" voice, Tyson would train when asked and Bryan and Ian would declare peace with each other.

And what a nice, nice world it would be…

But back to reality. I have absolutely no idea what she's taking about and even worse Hilary's heading over here like she preparing for a one-woman war. Nuclear weapons and all.

Sigh, why can't I just have a normal life?

And then, as if by cue, the lights go out.

We wish you a Merry Christmas, indeed.

* * *

**Mr. Dickinson Pov:**

I blink absently as the lights flicker off around me, leaving me staring blankly at the darkness where my papers used to be. Turning from I desk I cast a look out at the weather, which has been steadily worsening all night, and find my window near-completely whited-out!

Turning away from the copious amounts of white falling from the sky, I hastily pluck my cellphone from my pocket before dialing the number of the BBA's head maintenance man for this building, Douglas, and ask him a flurry of questions.

After twenty minutes of discussing the general situation, I've reached my decision.

According to Douglas, the lights will not be on until at least the end of the week if the storm persists as predicted and the heat in the building will soon begin to drop spectacularly as well. This of course means that I simply cannot ask all those young people downstairs to wait the storm out in the dark.

Roads and hotels I suspect will either be all blocked or booked by now as well, meaning that my only real option is to call in a favor from a certain group of bladers with an apartment in this city that is big enough to house the rest of the teams.

Taking up my nifty little cellphone once again, I cheerfully dial in Kai's phone number. I'm sure he'll be willing to help out his fellow bladers…

* * *

**Kai Pov:**

Well, this is just so fucking great!

I sigh moodily and cast a look around me, pivoting on my left foot because about half my body is currently encased in a vaguely boa constrictor-like hug, before glaring poison out at the assembled group of idiots that surround me.

As soon as the lights went out about oh, maybe twenty or thirty minutes ago, Ming-Ming shrieked and jumped about a foot in the air (in six inch heels, which is rather impressive) before latching herself onto my arm with a death grip of the aforementioned snake. The other bladers then took that as the cue to start freaking out (some swearing, some yelling, some just being plain stupid).

Not to mention that several 'unnamed individuals' (i.e. Daichi, Kenny, Max… ect) all suddenly rediscovered their fear of the dark and proceeded to huddle together in a corner of the ballroom.

The girls (with the exception of my lovely Hilary) have all taken up complaining about how cold it's getting, and, to add to the chaos that's engulfed this place, something is continually playing a portion of what I _think_ is a Hollywood Undead song!

Oh wait, that's my phone...

Sighing at the utter annoyance of it all, I somehow manage to shake Ming-Ming off my arm for a second only for her to trade it off for my waist.

Sigh.

But whatever. After casting a mildly annoyed look at her I fish my phone out of my white tux jacket and tap the screen of the red cased iPhone Touch with my newly freed hand and then press it to my ear.

"Hiwatari speaking." I snap coldly. This, after all, is my work number and I can't risk someone from Hiwatari Corp hearing the weariness in my voice. That place is fucking _full_ of sharks who'd just _love_ to catch me at a bad moment.

Really though I'm hoping that it _is_ actually something to do with the company and not the police calling to tell me that my apartment's gone up in flames due to someone in the building blowing something up.

Because we _all_ know who'd be responsible for that.

"Yes, Kai is that you?"

No, it's the fucking ester bunny, why? Of course it's me you old coot! Or at least that's what I'd like to say but instead I stick with: "Yeah, it's me Mr. Dickinson, what is it?"

"Well, you see, my boy,"

I'm not you goddamn boy!

"We're having a bit of a problem with the heating and lighting in the building,"

No shit, Sherlock.

"And with the roads and hotels closing down so quickly..."

I really don't like where this is going...

"I was wondering if you might mind, if maybe it's not too much trouble..."

Sigh...we both know what he's about to say, and we both know I can't say no, so why the hell is he stalling?

"I was wondering if you would mind having the blading teams stay over at your apartment until the roads are clear enough to get them back to their home countries?"

Ah, Mr. Dickinson, we both know how this is going to end so why even ask?

"Fine." I growl into the phone before snapping it shut and turning to the group of panicky bladers that stand before me. Giving a heavy sigh and stretching as much as I can with Ming-Ming still stuck to my waist, I yell a nice, clear, "SHUT UP!" to my audience.

Seeing as I'm still healing (even after three months on leave from pretty much anything important or interesting) I've been rather quiet (and yes, I am aware that I'm rather anti-social to begin with) for a while now so I guess it's a bit of a shock to their systems when they hear my call for silence as that's exactly what I get. Complete, dead, silence.

It's a Christmas miracle!

All of the once panicky teens stop talking and turn toward me with large, fish-like eyes. I sigh to myself; this is not going to be a fun next few days.

"Now for those of you who didn't hear me on the phone," I say, sending a glance at the league's resident Neko-Jins, all of who look a little sheepish except for Lee who sneers (cough, cough pathetically) and glares venomously. I sigh again. Scratch the "not-fun" part and trade it for "this is going to suck", if you will.

But, with a soldier's determination, I march on through my explanation.

"I just got a call from Mr. Dickinson and as much as I hate the idea myself, you're all going to be staying with me and the Blitzkrieg Boys until the roads are cleared and the BBA can get you all too where you're going, got it?" I say in my most you-will-not–mess-with-me-if-you-want-to–live voice (previously reserved for Tyson and Tala on bad hair days).

Slipping my typical "like-I-give-a-fuck" mask onto my face I finish up my mini-briefing with a nice solid blame-redirector (possibly the best tactic I've learned from my dearest Grandfather).

"And if you have any questions or concerns feel free to complain to Mr. Dickinson, as this was his idea, and because I can assure I will not care." This stated, I fold my arms snuggly across my chest and glare blankly as everyone continues doing the (as Tala has dubbed it) 'angry-fish' impression.

In the meanwhile though, Tala himself has seemingly taken it upon himself to step up beside me and start doing what his natural instincts dictate: boss people around.

"Right, now if you'll all start moving your asses towards the front door so we can get moving before the storm gets any worse, which trust me, it will." And with that he then turns to the main doors (which I was conveniently standing in front of) and throws them open before starting to herd bladers out into the stairwell (as the elevators run on power, which we are out of, thus the current crises) like the sheep they are.

* * *

**Hope you liked that! I had fun writing it, anyway as said before this is a Sequel to House Guest but even so it still needs Reviews! And as of yet I've got a grand total of: 0 reviews! Ew, I don't like that number very much, you know unless there's a one of a two in front of it. So please! If you Love/Like this story and want to see more of it faster you got to review!**

**Please Review! I need them to type!**

**Bye!**

**BlackRoseGirl666**


	5. The Gingerbread Wars

**Ian Pov:**

I HATE GINGERBREAD!

It's sticky and sweet and a temptation too big for me not to eat and it's structurally unsound and it never stays the fuck _up_ no mater how much _frickin_ white icing you fucking use.

And then it collapses and it goes fucking _everywhere_ and then you just _have_ to eat some of it and _arrrrrrrrg!_

And don't even get me _started_ on decorating the stupid piece of holiday _crap_.

And now that I've had my moment, let me explain to you the circumstances that have brought me to this point.

The stupid piece of crap house just collapsed for the **fifth** time in **one** hour! I mean for fuck's sake, you'd think that I, Ian, the inventor of the Blitzkrieg Boys' signature launching system, could figure out how to make a damn _gingerbread house_ wouldn't you? Well, turns out, I can't!

Now I have two theories as to why I can't seem to master the delicate art of Gingerbread House Construction: 1) it's rigged or 2) it's cursed.

Brilliant, no? Yeah, well, I didn't think it was too smart either.

"Hey there shrimp, how's it going?" Great, just what I need. If I know Bryan (and I'd better after living most of my life with him) he'll probably take a picture of this and use it as black mail latter on down the road.

Sigh, what it would be like to have an actually supportive family…

"You failed again?" He asked, smirking smugly, and thus dragging me out of my silent contemplations. I glared up at him (damn that frickin height difference!).

"Yes, Bryan," I replied with all the patience of a viper that's just had its lunch stolen. "The damn gingerbread house collapsed again. What's it to you?" I asked, a decidedly pronounced twitch in my eyebrow. He smiled sweetly at me.

I felt my irritation level spike up to new highs.

"Why would you ask that, Ian? I just thought I might be able to help." Bryan said in a lyrical, sing-song voice some adults use when talking to a particularly slow kid.

I felt my hands fist. And to think the fucker hadn't even really _done_ anything yet…

"Yeah, and I suppose that you'd use that over sized pigeon you like to call a bit beast to do it wouldn't you?" The silence that fallowed this statement lasted just long enough for me to realize that I had actually spoken said statement out loud, and then to send a small prayer to whoever was listening for protection.

"What did you say, you little _fart_?" Bryan hissed in a deadly voice.

I believe I might have stuttered something vaguely reminiscent of: "please don't kill me!" before he lunged.

"Whaaaaaa!" I screamed, tearing out of the room as fast as my legs would carry me.

See, the way I think about it, a real man finds no shame in screaming bloody murder; especially when one's 'bloody murder' is chasing right be-_fuckin_-hind him!

"Spencerrrrrrr! Bryan's going to kill meeeee!" I bellowed even louder, hoping to capture my oh-so-loving older brother's attention before Bryan had a chance to rend my arms from my shoulders and beat me with them.

But alas, it seemed that Spencer could not come fast enough and with Bryan on my tail with that ever-so-_not_-comforting gleam in his eye I did the only thing I could do in this situation.

I kicked my speed up to high gear before dropping to my knees and skidding past the Christmas tree and into the front of Kai's leather couch (thank _god_ we decided against putting a coffee table there) where I found safety.

And now that you know this, you will see why I simply _can't _be blamed for what happened next.

Bryan, not anticipating my awesome skidding-skills, and having more body weight than I do, went sailing **over** the couch instead of smashing into it and wound up crashing into Spencer, who must have come to see what all the noise was about, freshly mixed bowl-thing of vanilla cake mix in hand….

Yeah, well, lets just say that Spencer was shocked into dropping the thing and now Bryan has a new hat and everything around them for a five-foot radius is splattered in cake batter.

Including Kai's expensive-as-hell couches.

And yes, this is how Tala found us, about two seconds later, when he opened the door to lead just about every important person in the BBA into our (current) house.

And you want to know what I said to the twenty-odd shocked people standing in the doorway of my home?

I said: "Hi."

Because what else do you say in this kind of situation?

* * *

**Tala Pov:**

I just stood there, gapping. Not a care in the world as my cold persona dropped like a rock from the Empire Estate building in loo of well, gapping. I honestly could not believe it.

Spencer, dressed like someone who's been locked away in a holiday-themed kitchen work-camp (i.e. a red sweater sprinkled with icing in a multitude of colours, flour and other cooking ingredients, blue jeans that had probably seen better days and socks) for no one knew how long, was standing shocked in the doorway of the kitchen with a look of utter horror on his face, his hands still shaped like he was holding the (what I assume is) mixing bowl that now resided on Bryan's head.

Did I mention that he's coated in vanilla cake batter from what seemed to be waist down? And that everything in their general area was splattered as well?

Well, I have now.

Bryan himself was still sitting on the floor, legs out and arms crossed over his chest and a death glare on his face. His head swivelled back and forth taking turns directing said glare at Ian (who I guess somehow started this) and Spencer before finally sticking it on Ian since Spencer was still staring at us in shock and thus unresponsive to Bryan's ocular-ly (which is not a word) transmitted death threats and thus, no fun for Bryan.

Ian (amazingly) was the only one who had moved at all. He'd popped up from in front of the couch like some kind of mole rat; hair mussed and liberally speckled with icings and, well, sprinkles and his face pale like he'd just looked the devil in the eye and found out that his most intimate thoughts consisted what the next episode of My Little Ponies would consist of.

At this point I suppose he'd decided it was time for him to break the awkward silence (haha, as if) and thus decided to welcome us with a quiet and decidedly un-Ian-ish (another not-a-word):

"Hi."

Silence.

Or at least a more pronounced one than there had been before.

At this point I couldn't take it anymore and broke out into an uncontrollable fit of giggles whilst the rest of the blading community stood behind me looking at all four of us like we were asylum escapees.

Which, when you think about it, might not actually be that far off…

Meh, whatever.

"And even after spending all that time with them, even I don't know what just happened here…" came the slightly awed voice of one Ray Kon as he tried his best to come up with some logical explanation for how this came to be. I just snickered harder.

Oh, Ray-Ray, if only you knew that half the time we don't have a clue either, then maybe you might not waste your time trying to puzzle it out!

"That's it. I give up!" Spencer said, his teeth gritted and his face giving off the appearance of a dam about to break. I stopped laughing immediately.

Dropping his hands to his side, Spencer levelled one fearsome glare that reminded _everyone_ in slight that it wasn't just Kai, Bryan and I that got fucked over mentally by the Abbey before storming off to his room looking everyone inch of his six' four height and eighteen-nearly-nineteen years.

The resounding boom of his door being slammed shut was enough to make everyone jump as one.

Kai, Bryan, Ian and myself all wince in sync.

While Spencer is likely the only one of us who could be called technically sane (and thus, technically, the most fit for society) Spencer is also the most sensitive. I'm not calling him a wuss, or a loose cannon or any of that shit; it's just that while Biovolt spent most of its time with Ian, me, Bryan and Kai locking our emotions away so nothing verbal could get a reaction from us, they did the exact opposite with Spencer.

See, Spencer's always been a big guy. Even when Kai and me had just met him when he was nine he was still taller than any of us and stronger than any of us. And Biovolt knew it would stay that way. And they knew that once he was strong enough and recognized he was strong enough, they wouldn't have a hope in hell of keeping him in line.

Thus why while Kai and I and Ian were beat the shit out of and Bryan was given enough helucigenic shit to give a druggie pause, locking him in some of his worst memories, they used embarrassment and insults and a bunch of other hellishness on Spencer.

Anything to keep him from realizing just how easy it would be for him to snap their fucking necks and run.

From the back of the room I catch Kai's sigh of tired resignation and it manages to drag me from my rather depressing thoughts.

"Right then, better get you all sorted out lest someone else decide it's time for a break down." Kai muttered, sarcasm and disbelief mixing in his voice until I began hoping no one intentionally tried to piss him off, seeing as I didn't want to be stuck cleaning them up off the floor.

Kai turned to face the crowd, who had not moved from the hallway/doorway, and despite their growing impatience, had managed to keep their traps shut and the air clear from any slurs against Spencer or general complaints.

I couldn't tell if this lack of stupidity was from fear of how we'd react (which they probably envisioned as being something rather gory and violent) or fear of being kicked out back into the cold but either way I was grateful for it.

"Okay," Kai started, his voice and face and body language easily slipping into that of the feared 'Ice Prince' of beyblade. Everyone, even the legendarily bitchy Judy Tate, turned quietly towards him as they awaited their orders.

Kai acted like he hadn't even noticed. "Anyone who thinks they can cook should probably head into the kitchen to see if they can find and/or make something that resembles actual dinner; not a display from a baked good's store. I'm not overly sure what's in there seeing as that's typically Spencer's domain but feel free to be creative so long as whatever you make doesn't kill anyone or light anything on fire."

That said Kai watched with cold, expectant red eyes as four bladers (them being Julia, Mariah, Oliver and Garland (I know, surprising much?)) congealed together into a little group which was quickly taken control of by Judy Tate ("Children shouldn't be left in a kitchen and expected to cook alone!") before Oliver got fed up with her and told her to stuff it (though in more words and with French charm and politeness and all that.)

After pointing those five in the direction of the kitchen, Kai moved on to part two of his orders.

"Everyone else who is not Tyson, Max, Ray, Kenny or Hilary will be going with Tala in a moment to where you will be sleeping until this storm's cleared, feel free to roam around at your own will, all I ask is that you don't break anything, kill each other or get too badly lost. If I know Oliver dinner should be ready in a one to two hours, try to entertain yourselves until then." Kai sent an appraising glare around the room, making sure everyone had understood.

Three minutes later the glare ended and lets just say there were no questions asked and leave it at that, all right?

Nodding once to himself Kai turn to Ian and Bryan, who were now crouching down on the coach trying to look small and disappear and glaring dangerously from his spot on the floor respectively.

"You two," Kai hissed, likely channelling his inner-Spencer, "should go get cleaned up if you know what's good for you and do so before I have a change of heart and decided you need some more physical, and painful, motivation." Both of the aforementioned dumb-dumbs cringed and did as told, slinking off into the darkness of the hallway to my right as quickly as they could, likely thanking as many deities as they could remember that Kai wasn't willing to yell at them in front of 'the public'.

"Now, I'm going to go find Spencer and try to keep him from brooding too much. Tyson and co. it would be appreciated if you got a start on cleaning up this disaster, Hilary feel free to use any force necessary to keep them moving." Kai added absently with a smirk as Tyson sputtered in the background.

Hilary smirked back conspiratorially and I got the sense that if there hadn't been a group of unknowing entities in the room, he would have kissed her before he walked away down the hall.

"And Ivanov," he called turning back from the eerily dark hallway he'd been walking down to glare at me. "Quit smirking like that and get a move on!"

I winced a little before turning to face my assignment with so much faked enthusiasm that I probably could have passed for a meet-and-greeter at Chuck-E-Cheese's.

"Okay, so does anyone have any question before we begin this merry tour?" I asked, sarcastically. As in not _actually_ expecting anyone to have any questions.

So you can bet your ass someone had a question.

"Ah, yeah. What just happened back there?" Ming-Ming asked, shifting back and forth in her gold leather heels like she was getting ready to run in case I decided to snap and kill her.

Which might not have been that bad an idea if there hadn't been so many witnesses…

Rick's not-so-well-disguised snort broke me from my musings.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and say Ian did something to piss Bryan off so Bryan started chasing Ian who called for Spencer to help and then ducked behind the coach causing Bryan to run into Spencer and Spencer to then drop the whatever-it-was on Bryan, am I right?" Rick asked with a smirk, looking oddly smug at just how plausible his scenario truly is.

I started snickering again.

You see? That's why I like Rick. He has a sense of humour, and doesn't have a yard stick up his ass like a few people I could mention. What more could a guy ask for?

"Bingo!" I managed to choke back to him.

"Then Spencer snapped a little bit from dealing with the stress that comes along with policing the two of them and prepping for the 'Invasion'," I gesture behind Rick and I to the rest of the group, Rick grinned a bit and nodded, "and, well, here we are." I finished blandly. Rick laughed and we continued on like that, swapping stories and sarcastic remarks, right up until a decidedly annoying little voice broke in.

"Okay, do you two _know_ each other or something?" Lee asked, apparently ticked that he hadn't been informed that the Enemy (A.K.A Me, Ian, Bryan, Spencer and Kai) had started to contaminate the Innocents (A.K.A Everyone else In the BBA).

Rick, Emily, Eddy, Mystel, Crusher and me all stop and turned around to see that everyone else in our tour group (them being Raul, Ming-Ming, Brooklyn, the remainder of the Majestics, Michael and the White Tigers minus Mariah) had stopped and were now standing there staring at us.

Well, with the exception of Brooklyn, I guess. Seeing as he was bending over to study some kind of small bug that managed to escape from Ian's room...

Strange guy, but then again, no one trained by Boris are ever really 'all there' if you catch my meaning.

Especially if they've been singled out as a 'prodigy' from the beginning.

But anyway, back to the point of the matter.

Sighing deeply I focused myself before calling on my inner peacekeeper (read: politician), who oddly enough took on a visage that looked eerily similar to Kai.

"Lee," I began in my most tired tone. "I get it. You hate me and suspect that we're planning on turning the world against you but honestly, I don't give a shit." I said glaring, the fucker known as Lee matched it but I could see an angry blush rising on his face.

Heh, baby. Like he could even hope to beat me at glaring match.

"That said," I continued, my voice never raising above my usual conversational tone (which I think just pissed him off more), "I would greatly appreciate it if you would just shut up and walk long enough for me to show you to your room where you can quietly curse me to hell in privacy and I can carry on with my life. Capeesh? (haha, I love that word!)

Lee growled in his throat but grudgingly nodded his agreement. I smiled sweetly in a way that completely contradicted everything I'd just said and turned on my heel, Rick snickering shamelessly to my left and the rest of the group walking in dead silence.

Oh, yeah. This was going to be one _Holly Jolly Christmas_ all right…

* * *

**Well I finished this chapter in one day, which I am very proud of! Hope you all loved this chapter! It's one of my favourites so far! Anyway I hope you review!**

**Please Review!**

**Bye!**

**BlackRoseGirl666**


	6. The Grinch's Girlfriend

**Kai Pov:**

I let out a soft sigh as I came up to Spencer's dark blue door, a confused mix of dread, sympathy and guilt in my stomach.

I swear someone up there hates us. I mean who else has that kind of timing? Though I guess this is mostly my fault, I shouldn't have left Spencer here to deal with those two bumbling idiots on his own.

Not to mention that I definitely shouldn't have let Tala lead; not with the way he never thinks of what the consequences of opening the door to our house might be.

Biting down on my lip I gently rapped on Spencer's door, not knowing exactly what mood Spencer might be in after this most recent little disaster.

"Spencer? You okay?" I ventured carefully, trying to sound my nicest. The last thing I wanted to do was upset him anymore than he already was.

"Kai?" I heard him murmured from the other side of the door a second before said door flew open, revealing all six feet four inches of one Spencer Petrov, who was still flour and ingredient splattered though now his fists were also red. I suspected that he'd been beating the shit out of a punching bag rather than crying like most normal people do when they have a breakdown.

Hn, whatever works.

"You okay, man?" I asked again, this time a little louder. Now that I know he's somewhat stable there's no more use for the quite-as-a-mouse tone I was using before.

Spencer nodded slightly, opening the door up all the way so that he could brace himself against either side of the doorframe.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just snapped a bit, if you get what I mean." He replied. I smirked a little and snorted softly under my breath. Oh yeah, I knew what he meant. I couldn't count the times I'd nearly lost it when coaching the Bladebreakers, especially with that frickin' Hiro breathing down my neck. It's proof that miracles exist that he's not here.

"Trust me, Spence, I know what you're talking about." I said dryly. Spencer opened his mouth to say something (which I had a feeling would have been something decidedly mother-like) so I hurried to cut him off.

"Now, how about you get cleaned up and take the rest of the night off?" I said, ignoring his attempt to deny needing a break completely. "I'm pretty sure I can handle the idiots and if anything gets out of hand I can just sic Bryan on them." I said, smirking a little at the mental picture.

Spencer's eyes were wide by the end of my speech.

I just sighed.

Seeing as he's the only one in the house who can make food without something (life threatening) happening _and_ control the Terrible Twosome (most of the time) I'm afraid to say that the concept of a night off has become a bit of a foreign concept to Spencer.

Or maybe not a foreign one, actually. I'm pretty sure that particular idea never had a chance to become a resident. What with being the oldest of group of scarred, scared and technically underage teens whose only experience with the world outside of the Abbey was around twenty minutes during matches and the like…

Just thinking about makes me feel even guiltier than usual.

Spencer eventually knocked himself out of his shock (and thus me out of my thoughts) and smiled.

"That would be something I would be very happy to do, but, are you sure you can handle everything?" He asked, his mother-hen instincts not letting him drop his responsibilities without a fight.

I just nod my head but Spencer kept going.

"I mean we do have an entire new group of idiots to deal with, and-" And there's another thing that's great about Spencer, as much as he's pretty much dead on his feet and in need of some serious sleep, he's still trying to keep the burden off of everyone else.

But not this time. As soon as he draws a breath to go into another reason why I'll need back up to deal with this recent invasion, I cut him off.

"No worries Spencer, I have Hilary here to help me and no one here has the guts to go against Hilary." I replied, smirking proudly at the thought of the fear my girlfriend inspired whilst Spencer just laughed.

"Yeah, I'm sure one day she'll make a great Mrs. Hiwatari." He called, smirking over his shoulder before shutting the door and leaving me, gapping, alone in the hallway.

* * *

**Hilary Pov:**

I groaned slightly as I shut the door to Kai's bedroom behind me, thanking the guys mentally when the sound from outside shut off thanks to the soundproofing.

Sighing I flicked off my heels plopped myself down on his bed, content to just lay there on the black sheets until the world ended or Kai came in. Which ever happened first.

Today's just been a bad day in my books, seeing as I've had to deal with everything from Ming-Ming (which is always disgusting) to Mariah and her denial about Bryan (despite never shutting up about him) to having to behave myself and wear heels! I mean not to sound like a bitch, but it today has sucked. Period. The only up shot being seeing Kai in a tux.

And that little up shot probably would have been enough for me, even though the rest of the day wasn't worth getting up for, but then the power went out and we were forced to hike in the snow (which maybe wouldn't have been that bad if I'd had something other than heels to hike in) and camp out here, which I usually wouldn't mind, if only we didn't half to three quarters of the BBA fallowing us!

Then I got to watch as one of my friends got stared at like a zoo exhibit by a bunch of people I find myself closer and closer to not being able to stand the longer I'm near them before finally, after muscling Tyson into helping clean up the cake batter, I found myself drafted into the kitchen by one Judy Tate.

Judy Tate, who I think I might _actually_ hate.

Take away the fact that Judy is half the reason for Max (whom I love like a little brother) and most of the reason for the All Starz; I can find no reason for that woman's existence.

She's disloyal, cold, and blind. She may be smart with books and computers and comprehend more technical lingo than your average Harvard student but she is mediocre when it comes to the life of her child and the world and everything that's actually _important_.

She's also controlling and, in my opinion, arrogant.

And trust me, growing up in high-class Beycity, I know arrogant before it even has a chance to reach the front door.

I'm so caught up in my inner rant that I don't even notice Kai entering the room until I feel his arms settle around my waist and a trail of butterfly kisses coming up the side of my neck. I moan slightly and tilt my head back giving his soft lips full excess to my neck.

I hear him laugh slightly into the side of my neck and this immediately causes me to melt into his arms, all thoughts of tying Judy Tate and Ming-Ming to a working railway track and watching what happens left me as Kai's hand gently messaged my neck, expertly searching out the pins that hold my hair up and removing them, letting my hair fall down in the process.

"You know, love?" He whispered in my ear lowly, a small shiver raced down my back and I found I didn't have enough energy to form proper words anymore so I just hummed something out that might have vaguely signified a question.

I feel more than see him smirk as he swings me around to face him. "Even though you look extremely sexy with your hair up, I have to say... I still love it down." I laughed gently before all coherent thoughts slipped away as Kai slowly brushes his lips up against mine.

Little sparks of electricity ran up and down my body as his pale lips gently stole my breath away only to replace it with his. My legs suddenly went all tingly and in that moment my only thoughts were how good his lips felt on mine and how glad I was to be sitting down already.

When I finally started to get a little strength back I wrapped one arm around his neck, my white silk gloved hand tangling in his beautiful two toned hair, while the other one started going up his arm; tracing the strong muscles which were so carelessly hidden beneath the white silk and cotton of his tux jacket and dress shirt.

Gently pulling him closer, I quickly began to slip his jacket off of his shoulders, he released me for only a moment so he could slip the rest of the bloody thing off.

Now all that stood between me and Kai's creamy white skin are my silk gloves (which are being done away with as we speak), a thin white dress shirt and a mistletoe red tie.

And that my friends was when the sound of someone a-knock-knock-knocking at the door echoed through the room.

Kai and I both froze like a couple of kindergartners with our hands caught in a cookie jar and looked at each other in complete shock for exactly one second. I mean for fuck's sake, what the hell people? Can you not see I'm trying to make out with the god of all that is good and sexy?

"Kai?" Called the irritatingly 'motherly' voice of one Judy Tate. "It's Judy! Would you please come out now? I think we need to go over some ground rules with the others before everyone gets too settled down!"

Have I ever mentioned how much I fucking hate that woman?

No?

WELL NOW'S A BLOODY GOOD TIME! I-

Kai must have noticed my shock turning to anger because before I could get up and march over to the door and punch Mrs. Judy Tate straight in the face and then proceed to kiss Kai for the rest of eternity, a calming hand wrapped itself around mine.

Bringing my fingers up to his mouth and Kai then proceeded to kiss them efficiently enough to distract me from my planes of murder and mayhem. Not a task easily done might I add, just ask Tyson if you need assurance of that.

"Hilary, love, take a shower and get some rest for a bit. I'll be back once I'm finish dealing with the idiot brigade." He said simply before dropping my hand and slipping his tux jacket back on.

Turning back around to me he placed a small kiss on my forehead, much like the medieval knights might have done as they headed off to war.

I smirked and gave him a mock solute before, keeping my voice low (as to not alert the wicked witch of the PPA of my presence), whispering in his ear: "As you wish my captain but be warned, if you make me wait too long you might not be able to move in the morning."

Gently kissing his slightly stunned lips, I then quickly gathered up my shoes, hairpins and gloves before heading into the onsite bathroom, swaying my hips slightly as I walk knowing full well that it drives him crazy.

I can just catch the swear he muttered to himself before I close the door, silently snickering to myself as I tossed my shoes and other crap on the floor and slid out of my dress other things, also tossing them onto the pile along with my white gloves.

The only things I really take any care in putting away are the red gem poinsettia hairpiece (which is worth more than any holiday-themed jewellery has any right to be), the gold drop earrings, which were my mother's, and the bracelet, which again, is worth more than jewellery has any right to be.

Placing all of that carefully on the counter I turned on the water and stepped in, silently praying as the water washed over me that things would only get easier from this point on.

I should have known better.

* * *

**Well, I hope you all liked that! I also hope it made up for the lack of KaiHilness in the rest of the story! Also, thanks for the Reviews everybody! You guys rock!**

**Sincerely,**

**BlackRoseGirl666**


	7. More Than One Way to Kiss a Kitten

**Mariah Pov:**

I groaned slightly as I switched feet, putting my left foot up and shifting all my weight on to my right one in a pose that I imagined to look somewhat like a flamingo, in a vain attempted to sooth my sore feet.

My sore feet, which I might add, had now been stuck in these accursed shoes for about six hours, not to mention the twenty minute hike in the snow it took to get here which added the extra damage of well...hiking.

In the _snow_.

And if that wasn't bad enough I've also been condemned to kitchen duty! I mean yeah, I volunteered and all but I thought we'd be making something _simple, _you know, like grilled cheese and tomato soup or something.

Not a frickin' five course meal with '_vegetarian options'_.

"Chef Oliver" (A.K.A Oliver the Kitchen Slave Driver), who quickly took over from Judy the Irksome once he realized she didn't know what a panini was, has had me posted on rice duty ever since.

Something you never want to be on when you're wearing heels.

Fuck, why-oh-why didn't I just agree to help Julia with potato peeling? At least then I would have gotten to sit down.

But then again, I'd also have to deal with Oliver breathing down my neck.

Heels. Oliver. Heels. Oliver…

I think I'll stick with the heels.

Shifting feet once again I sighed as the little timer beside the stove finally dinged and I put the rice off to cool, meaning that I was now free from my time in the Kitchen of Hell!

Not that the kitchen is really that bad, actually; it's dang pretty sweet!

Literally, actually, seeing as just about everything was splattered in something baking-related but that's not the point.

It's large and spacious with cream tiled floors and dark wood cabinets with dark green counters and appliances that are either this year's or last year's model and all in stainless steel.

The dry food panty was large like walk in closet and had that back wall devoted to cooking books and magazines and a sound system that was easily one of the most high-end things in the room. Beside it sat a CD collection that came from the dreams of anyone who was a fan of bands like Hinder, Simple Plan or Three Doors Down.

All in all, definitely not something I would have expected to find in the Blitzkrieg Boys' house or, er, apartment.

After a few more minutes of staring mindlessly into the open, empty kitchen I heard the door open only to find the embodiment of all things hot and sexy (Bryan) standing, smirking in the doorway.

_Sorry for the minor pause in thinking as all coherent thought is lost due to an over load of hotness. Sorry for the minor pause in thinking as all coherent thought is lost due to an over load of hotness. Sorry for the minor pause in thinking as all coherent thought –_

_BEEP. BEEP. BEEP._

_Please wait while reloading…_

…

Okay, and I'm back! Sorry for the Ming-Ming-esque moment there but really, shirts that hug his body like that really should be outlawed! Or at least have warning sign printed on the front! Saying, oh, I don't know how about: Warning! Danger to all women 15 and up!

But really even if you think I'm exaggerating trust me, I'm not. In my position you probably would have already jumped him.

'Cause trust me, the only thing keeping me stationary is the fact that Lee's only three hallways over and might catch my moans of pure satisfaction and decide to come running over to find out who dare "defile" his precious baby sister before she can be legally bound to the local village wombat (A.K.A Who ever the Council of Elders decided I'm destined to be with, and let me first remind you that the Council of Elders still tells the weather based on which way a leaf blows when it falls off a tree).

So, instead of attacking him and ravaging him like my instincts so demand I have the brilliant thought of just settling down for a while and watching as he strutted over here like some damn gorgeous jungle cat; black V neck (skin tight!) cotton T shirt doing it's part of driving me crazy by riding up slightly from his (tight!) dark blue skinny jeans revealing just a _bit_ of his pale hip (which is covered by what I suppose is a bit of a tattoo that I now have a _serious_ urge see completely in the full light of day), as he grabbed a chair and clambered up on it and started looking around the top of the cabinets.

Why is he doing this? I have no clue; but that doesn't keep me from hoping that he doesn't get bored of doing whatever-it-is because let me tell you this, the view from where I'm standing is probably one of the _best_ I will see in my _entire_ lifetime and I _do not want it to end_.

* * *

**Bryan Pov:**

"Bloody hell!"

I growled under my breath as I flipped off the shower. Physically I'm fine, it's only taken me about fifteen minutes to wash all the cake crap out of my hair and unlike Spencer, I don't give two shits what the BBA thinks of me; but I have a feeling my shirt's toast and for that the imp will pay!

Stupid Ian, always getting me in trouble...

Although, on the bright side with Spencer out of commission for the night that does give me a great opportunity to go hunt down that box of contraband I hid above the cabinets in the kitchen last time we were here!

And for all of you who don't quite understand what I mean by 'contraband' let me explain it to you.

See when we first got out of the Abbey, we all kind of picked up certain quirks for different things (Tala: sugar and explosives, Ian: Pop music and chemistry, Kai: Music and meditation/Tylenol, Spencer: Cooking and sketching) and, unfortunately, it was decided that the side effects of these 'obsessions' were hazardous to our collective sanity.

Or health.

Towards the end there it was kind of hard to tell which was affected more.

Especially after that episode where Tala wound up on the roof with Ian as a hostage…

Yeah, lets just leave it there and say that it's a good thing we were at the place in Russia during that period.

Ian's obsession with Brittany Spears music a while back is also a prime example.

So… back to the point!

Which is that now if we want something from out Outlawed List (yes, Spencer actually made a _list_), we must sneak it in and hide it away from Spencer's eagle eyes lest we be stuck on dish duty for a month.

Got it? Good, I'm not going over it again.

Throwing a glance at my alarm clock I let out a curse before running around my room to gather clothes and other necessities for leaving my room, which I have to do fast, seeing as if I don't get to my stash first I just _know_ that little bastard Ian will steal it and _still_ find some way for me to be blamed for it.

So with this in mind I quickly grabbed some pants, a shirt, slipped my dog tags on, pulled on a pair of what I believe are my convers (they might be Tala's, but I'm pretty sure if I snatched them it was a week or so ago so he probably won't remember if they _are_ his) and quickly ran a hand through my still wet hair.

And with that I deemed myself ready to leave my room in roughly 4.3 minutes (a personal best) and after locking the newly changed lock (Ian figured out how to pick the old one in like, three seconds? It was pretty sad considering that that lock was supposedly one of the best in Russia) on my door I was ready to face horrors untold in my quest to reach the kitchen before the twerp!

Yeah, I'm one for dramatics, so sue me.

I headed down the hallway at a fast pace, taking a left at Spencer's door and a right at Tala's I wound up reaching the kitchen is about ten minutes, which is, all things considered, a pretty fast time.

After slipping through the living room where Tyson, Ray, Max and Kenny had just finished cleaning up the last of the cake mix disaster and then through the dining room where Oliver was dictating to Julia about something cooking-related I then finally snuck into the kitchen which was completely empty with the exception of that cute pink haired girl on Lee's team.

I nearly tripped over my own feet as my common sense caught back up with my thoughts.

Wait.

Back up.

Did I seriously just think Mariah of the White Tigers, sister of Lee Wong, was _cute_? Ah, _hells_ no.

Bryan, I told my self firmly (feh, I'm already considered crazy. I little self-counselling isn't going to do anymore harm), Snap out of it! We can't have you going all ga-ga after some girl too! Especially _Mariah_ of all people!

Heh, knowing Lee he'd find some way to get me sent to jail if I so much as _looked_ at his pretty little sister the wrong way (the wrong was being looking at her at all), which, mind you, I am finding _extremely_ hard not to do.

And because it's so damned hard, I still found my eyes drifting towards her.

As reluctant as I am to use the term, the word 'fairy' comes to my mind as a watch her stare intently at a pan of rice. Though, I must admit the scene is ruined a little when she switches feet and lets out of string of Chinese I recognize only because they are swear words.

_Okay_, I readjust mentally, _a fairy with an attitude._

All the better, another voice in my head chimes and it is at this point that I realize I'm actually agreeing with myself.

But back to the point (again).

I suppose my liking her more could be for all the worse, too, I guess, because that only makes me, well, _like_ her more which I am sure will turn out to be detrimental to not only me, but her as well.

So with an angsty sigh that rivalled one of Kai's when he's in a brooding mood and that in mind I grabbed a chair from the breakfast nook (no idea why we even have one of those) and hopped up on said chair and started looking around for my pretty little shoebox, which was what I had so smartly hid my stash in.

Here is what I found:

Dust, an unholy amount of dust. For someone as neat freak-y as Spencer this is very surprising, although now that I think about it, I myself happen to have a fairly large allergy to dusty areas. Could it be that Spencer, the water loving, Happy Home Magazine addict and all around Martha Stewart reincarnation, possibly have left this area to dust over as some kind of defence against me?

...

Nah!

On top of the dust jungle, I'd also found a sealed box that looked like one of those tool-box thing-ys containing sugar, food colouring and other sweetening materials such as gummy bears, M&M's, Smarties and other assorted chocolate and candy-like items

You of course know what this means.

But if you don't, here's the basics of it:

It seems that in my mindless searching I have most likely and unwittingly stumbled upon Spencer's hiding place for his sweet ingredients which he had to start hiding after we found out that Tala had started sneaking sweets out of said stash and getting massive sugar highs...

But back to a less scary note.

I normally would just grab this and run, probably for use in the near future when Tala gets the urge to hold one of his extreme training circuits at four am, but seeing as I'm already on Spencer's bad list and I actually want to keep my head attached to my shoulders, I think I'm just going to leave this find be...

For now.

Anyhow, I also spy with my little eye a discarded oven mitt, a few stray gardening magazines, a camera, and a couple of white envelops!

But no shoe box...which is what I'm looking for...which isn't here...

I turn my head back to the two white envelopes. Both are the same size, both white, both have names written on them in Spencer's way-too-neat hand writing, both looked completely innocent.

So why is it that I'm getting a feeling of compete evil from them?

Taking a closer look this time around I actually took the time to read what the hell the writing said and, what do you know, it was names! The names being Bryan and Ian…

Meaning that unless Spencer's met another Bryan/Ian and expected them to find letters addressed to them in our (Spencer's) kitchen (which is unlikely) one of those letters is meant for me.

Yeah, I know. My skills of deduction totally kick ass don't they?

Reaching forward I grabbed the one that says _Bryan_ and ripped the top off.

This is my first mistake.

Because of course this stirs the dust and caused me to have a sneezing fit, which luckily only lasted a minute or two before the dust cleared and I could go back to reading the letter, and because I'm a nice guy and just know your absolutely _burning_ to know what it says well, here is what it says:

_Dear Bryan,_

_I really hope you weren't to attached to that box and it's contents because it is now nothing more that a pile of ashes and anything that did not burn the first time is now at the bottom of a very deep body of water._

_I truly hope you have learned form this experience and will never do something as stupid as going into my kitchen again, let alone hiding contraband above my pantries._

_And now with the last warning of STAY THE HELL OUT OF MY KITCHEN! I wish you a nice day._

_Sincerely,_

_Spencer._

_PS. If Ian hasn't received his letter yet, could you please be so kind as to deliver it to him? _

_Thanks!_

Safe to say I think the nice folks in Albecerkey heard my swearing which in turn (and you all, knowing my luck, probably saw this coming from a mile away) caused a massive dust cloud to arise which effectively threw me into a coughing/sneezing fit which (because you all know that sneezing myself to death just _isn't_ enough) caused me to lose my balance on the chair I've been standing on for the last fifteen minutes and do you want to know what happens when you loses your balance on a chair? Yeah, it's called falling and when you hit the grown, it hurts like a bitch!

I'm pretty sure I heard Mariah scream; hm, she's still here? I thought she left some time ago...

Ah, oh well whatever! I manage to manoeuvre myself so that I'm now proper up on my elbows whilst the rest of me is spread out on the floor, Mariah keeled beside me acting all panicky asking me if I'm seeing doubles and saying something about putting presser on the wound to stop the bleeding...Wait I'm bleeding? Ohhhhh so that's what that warm, wet stuff rolling down the side of my head is!

I mentally slap myself, well duh! I push myself up the rest of the way so I'm now sitting up straight, which maybe wasn't the best idea from the sharp pain that erupts in the side of my head.

Mariah let out another small squeal and stood up, coming back only two seconds latter with a wet cloth and an ice pack which I am extremely grateful for, I wrapped the ice pack in the cloth and hold it to my head and immediately felt relief.

Thank god for ice packs...

Mariah's now looking at me worriedly though she does look less panicky. I realize I don't really like it when she looks all worried and stuff she to pretty for it-

Aw, damn here I go again with thinking she's pretty again!

"Bryan? Are you ok?" Asked Mariah. I raised an eyebrow at her. Guess she must have noticed my space out and thought I was going to pass out or something because now she's waving her hand in front of my face and looking all panicky again.

"I'm fine," I say, cracking a half smile. "I live with Tala, I've fallen off things way higher than that." I add, turning my half smile into a full out smirk.

She smiles and blushes slightly, putting a hand over her mouth in an attempt to hide a chuckle but it doesn't quite work and I hear her laugh. She got a really sweet one, kind of like bells or something like that.I have to wonder why she'd try to hide something that nice…

We sit like that for a while more, she's sitting in front of me with her legs tucked under her with her arms crossed in front of her while I'm sitting up, holding an ice pack to my head probably looking like an idiot while she looks like some kind of fairy (because that's the only word that fits)...

I shake my head slightly, even if I did have feelings like that for her, why would she ever stoop so low as someone like me? I must have been so consumed in my slightly morbid thoughts that I didn't even notice she stood up until her hand's in my face and she's asking me if I'd like a hand up.

I answer 'sure' simply because I like the feel of her hand in mine and I don't have time to check myself.

* * *

**Mariah's Pov:**

I can barley keep myself from doing the happy dance as that far off look in his eyes disappears and a happy look forms when I ask him if he'd like a hand up. At his positive reply, I grab his hand and our eyes connect and I find myself grinning a little.

He just looks so… so imperfect, and yeah, I know that sounds strange but it's true! All my life everything has been so cookie cutter perfect, everything from how I'm supposed to act to who I'm supposed to fall in love with!

It's like my life been some kind of written out play and I'm just an actress playing a part.

But Bryan... when I look at him and see that mischievous look in his eye or that tell tale smirk curl his lip, it makes me remember that I'm _real._ That I have _control. _ That _no one_ can make me do _anything_ I don't want to! He makes me remember that life can be fun and not just a duty, he makes me want to live whereas before I met him...I felt like I was drowning and now I just don't think I can let that go.

Eventually I look down, effectively breaking the spell that we had somehow managed to cast, and pull him to his feet.

He wobbles slightly and I move forward in an attempt to steady him but he just grabs onto the counter top so I actually wind up falling forward and, well, he catches me, smirk clear on his face.

"And here I thought cats had great balance." he says, smirk turning to smile. I blush and on a total spur of the moment decision say:

"We usually do, when we're not distracted of course." And I add a little wink! Heh, take that Lee! Your sister just filtered with Bryan of the Blitzkrieg Boys!

Bryan looks slightly shocked for a second before a full blown smile shows up on his face making me nearly melt, god does he look good with a smile on his face…

"Well then, I guess your just going to have to spend more time around you distraction then aren't you?" He asks, lighting. It's a deep, warm sound that makes me smile and again I start feeling all hot and melt-y but I mange to keep myself from turning into a puddle by moving forward a step and moving my hand up his arm.

"Oh, most definitely." I say, no- _purr_, leaning forward and planting a kiss on his lips, which he returns whole heartily.

Good lord, what is _up_ with me?

And then he bites down gently on my lip and suddenly I don't really care.

I hear a soft plunk as the ice pack he's been holding to his head this entire time hits the ground and the hand the that was holding it there moves to my hip and my other hand travels from my side to the crook of his elbow and then to the back of his head.

God this is just so...heaven, and even that doesn't cover it!

His hand moves from my hip to my lower back pulling me closer, I stumble slightly and literally fall into his awaiting arms not that he minds much.

The hand that I had put on his arm trails up the rest of his arm and I drape it around his neck in an effort to stay up right, Bryan's now free arm quickly warps around my waist, I wrap one leg around his leg and we pull away from each other thanks to a lack of oxygen.

I take in a big gasp of air whilst Bryan's hot breath hits my face, I blush again and suddenly I have the odd urge to fan myself. I swear if I get any hotter I'm just going to melt right here and now and then they'll have to clean me up off the floor.

"I think I just own the best first kiss award," I state as I rest my head on Bryan shoulder, and grin to myself when I realize he's the perfect height for me to do that.

"Same here," he breaths, resting his chin on my head.

"That was your first to?" I ask, mildly shocked. I'd always figured that I was one of the only bladers that still hadn't kissed anyone.

Well, not anymore I guess.

He smirks and kisses my forehead. "Yeah, and that was my second."

I smirk back up at him, kissing him on the lips myself. "And now we're even." I say, snuggling into his shoulder. He chuckles and tightens his hold and my waist slightly.

This is just so...awesome (I refuse to say perfect I just know saying that will jinx it) and now if we can just keep it secret until we get out of here everything with be just great, I-

"Mariah? I heard that crash! Are you- WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE!"

"Lee!" I yell, oh this is bad! But do you want to know what's worse? The main thought running through my head right now is how glad I am that he didn't decide to burst in during that first kiss!

* * *

**Sorry about the wait on this chapter my computer's being a bitch so I had to write the majority of this in the Edit/Preview section, which well sucks, so it took me one hell of a lot longer than usual. But anyway hope you loved it as much as I do, had tons of fun writing this! **

**Please Review!**

**Bye!**

**BlackRoseGirl666 **


	8. And Good Tidings to All Men! Except For

**Lee Pov:**

I narrowed my eyes at the supposedly innocent (you just never knew with these rehabilitated bad guys, as Boris proved…) spot on the light tan wall of the room the Blitzkrieg Boy's resident leader/Cyborg dumped me in after making me look like an idiot in front of everyone.

I hadn't even done anything wrong! I'd just asked a sensible question, in a completely normal tone (kind of) and he pounced on me with his snippy little sarcastic blurb and then left me here! I mean–

CRASH!

God, what was that?

I slowly removed my hands from where I clamped them over my sensitive ears when the crash sounded out through the place and got to my feet, trying to remember where it'd come from.

I paled when I realized where.

The kitchen! And more specifically, where Mariah was supposed to be!

Running out of my room I slammed the door behind me and hung a left, then a right and another one, and then a few more turns and finally another right.

And another one. And then a left, and then (after nearly bowling over a tastefully placed glass table) I decided to go straight until I real realized I'd turned into a dead end…

I hissed under my breath before back pedaling.

I bet they did this just to be even more annoying! I mean dear Buddha, who had an apartment with this many rooms? Diabolical evil master minds who want their guests to get lost, that's who!

It takes me another thirty minutes or so of running around this place totally lost before I finally run into someone who can point me in the right direction and that someone just happens to be Julia Fernandez, who apparently, is trying to escape Oliver or something like that. I wasn't really listening all that closely.

It turns out that I taken a few too many lefts somewhere along the road and in all it winds up taking me another twenty minutes before I can actually make it to the kitchen door and throw it open and rush to my sister's aid.

"Mariah?" I asked, scanning the kitchen wildly with concern in my voice, just like any good brother should. "I heard that crash! Are you- WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE!"

I yelled, my eyes wide with shock and my mouth gaping as I watch my little sister pale and abruptly pull away from the lilac haired psycho (yes, the same psycho that nearly did in Ray way back when) she'd had her arms (and…_lips_) wrapped around when I'd arrived.

"Lee!" She squeaked, obviously shocked and embarrassed but I guess not enough to move away more from that… _thing_, when he moved to put his arm around her waist!

She fucking leaned _into_ it for crying out loud!

And this is how the rest of the cavalry found as a few minutes later when they stormed in, the cavalry being Judy Tate, Julia, Oliver, Tala, Hilary and Kai, that is.

"Oh, my," I hear come quietly from somewhere behind me to my left, I turn to see Judy with her hand over her mouth and a proper look of disapproving shock on her face.

I find myself agreeing with her; though I think her feelings stem more from a couple of sixteen year olds making out then my sister kissing a Blitzkrieg Boy.

Though by the way she looks at Bryan maybe I'm wrong…

Absently I take a look at how the rest of them are reacting and find to my surprise a rather varied group of people, none of them apparently sharing in my shock (or horror).

Julia is simply standing there by the door with her arms crossed over her green silk covered dress and an eyebrow raised in a way that seems to be asking: _This is what you ditched me with Oliver for? _Before she nodded a little to herself and looked at Bryan in a way that seemed to say something like: _I approve!_

And all the while Oliver continues to babble about true love and all its goodness.

I find myself making a mental note to kill him later.

Tala and Kai seem to be handling this the most normally for their respective personalities: that being emotionlessly.

Or at least that's what I think until I look a little harder and see the small frown on Tala's face and the microscopical smirk on Kai's.

And the little bundle of green bills that are covertly making their way from Tala's hand to Kai's…

Those bastards had a bet going!

And then, just as I'm about to ream said bastards for betting on my baby sister, I'm suddenly pushed back by six feet four inches of pissed off blonde Russian.

"Bryan Kuznetsov, what the _fuck_ have you done _now._" The guy (who I believe is known as Spencer) said in such an evil fashion that I was suddenly amazingly glad I hadn't decided to try and push him back.

As it was, Bryan just winced a little.

And in that moment, I decided that that scared me more than anything else.

* * *

**Kai Pov:**

Why, oh why did Bryan just have to go into Spencer's kitchen? I mean yes, I'm happy that I can now safely assume that Bryan and Mariah are together but couldn't they have gotten together in a more, I don't know, _normal_ way? Or maybe just kept it quiet until Lee wasn't so close? And maybe even reveal it in, perhaps, a just slightly less compromising manner, maybe? Would that have been too much to ask?

…

Oh, who am I kidding? It's Bryan for fuck's sake. I don't think he can do _anything_ with out at least some amount of drama.

Okay, so now that I've had that fantastic break through I think it's about time I step in and save Bryan's ass from the combined efforts of Lee and Spencer to rip it apart.

"Bryan, Mariah, would you please explain exactly what's going on?" Said pink haired girl and lavender headed idiot turned to look at me, one wide-eyed and one glaring at Lee (I think you can guess who's who.)

Mariah's blushing thirty shades of red and started mumbling about something involving a chair, an ice pack, a towel and dust. What all of these have in common, I haven't the slightest clue but knowing Bryan I think I can safely assume that it some how led to a kiss and then some how I think a crash fits in there somewhere and that must have signalled Lee to come check on Mariah...

Or something along those lines.

I think.

Well, I guess I should-

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOUR DOING TO MY SISTER? GET AWAY FROM HER!" Oh damn, and here I was hoping to interrupt _before_ Lee started yelling…

Oh, well, so long as no one dies and the apartment is still in one piece...

And that's the last thought I have time to think before the fighting commenced, starting with Lee taking a flying lunge at Bryan.

I winced internally as I watched Bryan's eyes sharpen as he shoved Mariah out of the way and took the full brunt of Lee's attack, which really just wound up pushing him into the cupboards, though it appears that was enough to re-open the gash on his head which immediately tarts spewing blood down the front of his face.

This doesn't stop Lee though, who immediately follows his shove up with an attempted punch to the face.

Take note of how I say _attempted_.

Because by now the instincts beat into Bryan by the Abbey have started to leak through his tight control and with them, the genetically engineered reflexes and fighting ability as well as the survival instincts that come (free of charge) with surviving Hell.

With the quick military precision most new recruits can only dream about Bryan grabbed Lee's fist and quickly turned the idiot over, this time slamming him into the counter top before sending a sharp jab into the lion's gut.

But don't feel too sorry for him now, because while Bryan (and the rest of us) have been genetically fucked with, Lee's got training in nearly dead martial arts styles for god-knows-how-long and Neko-Jin blood on his side, making them pretty evenly matched unless by some chance Bryan loses it completely and then well…

Lets just say there's a reason Bryan's Bitbeast is so frickin vicious.

And while this carries on outside the 'ring' in the background we have Mariah, who is continually wailing for them both to stop in and Julia, who is trying (and failing) to get her to shut up (well, maybe not shut up but you get the point).

And then Hilary, well, Hilary's face is slowly turning from her usual light tan to an angry red. Her hands have taken the liberty of fisting themselves and her eyes are narrowed into a scary glare that she must have picked up from one of us.

None of this is a good thing.

You see, Hilary's always wanted siblings. Now I can't tell if this is a side effect of having her bitch of and Aunt raise her or if she wanted them because she'd never known what it was like but after her first few meetings with my makeshift family she started to see them as her own.

This only solidified when she was taking care of Ian when he was sick a couple years ago and he called her 'sis.' Since then it seems like she's just kind of moulded into that place in our group (with the exception of me, of course).

So now that you know all that can you really blame me, Tala and Spencer for not being shocked when my petite 5'5 girlfriend stormed between the two?

And as for the other three members of our little audience, well, they all just stared in shock as the supposedly sweet little Hilary Tatibana broke up a fight between Bryan and Lee like trained muscle at a seedy biker bar.

Yup, that's my girl.

Who now that I look, is the only one not wearing anything formal save for Bryan, Ian and Spencer.

Huh, wonder how she pulled that off…

Hn, whatever. She's Hilary.

And currently she's decked out in clothes consisting of a pair of skinny blue jeans and a bright blue T-shirt with a picture of a yellow cartoon rabbit on the front holding a knife with a little caption on it proclaiming "cute and evil: See? It evens out!"

I find it scary how well that fits her personality.

But back to the present.

Hilary ran a hand through her shoulder length chocolate hair before turning so that she could face all those assembled before promptly levelling a quelling glare at us.

I struggled to keep my proud smirk from showing.

"Now," she stated as though talking to a bunch of kindergarteners. "How about we all go sit down in the living room and sort this out without trying to kill each other off?" She asked in a way that suggests that what she just said was more of a command than a question.

Lee opened his mouth to argue but I sent him a killing glare over Hilary's shoulder and (miracle of miracles!) he stood down.

Hilary then turned her attention to Mariah and Bryan.

Both were sitting down, Mariah in front of Bryan gently blotting the large-ish gash on Bryan forehead with a wet cloth that she must have gotten at some point. Both seem to be content to ignore the rest of the world until Hilary cleared her throat in an un-amused sort of fashion and got their (sheepish) attention.

"Mariah, would you please go with Spencer and help him treat Bryan's wounds after getting your brother and ice pack?" Hilary asked gently, a soft smile on her face that belied her obvious irritation at this whole thing.

Mariah nodded and helped Bryan to his feet, gently guiding him over to where Spencer's standing, Spencer then took Bryan's other arms and all three turned to leave to I guess the training/medical room. Mariah either completely ignoring Hilary's request at getting her brother an ice pack or just figuring Bryan's more important at the moment.

Seeing that Bryan is now in good hands Hilary turned her attention back to everyone else in the room, a nice smile on her face she zeroed in on Judy Tate like a heat seeking missile with a happy face painted on the front.

"Ms. Tate do you think you could help Lee get cleaned up please? I don't have enough medical knowledge to do it my self to if you could..." She asked, twirling her hair and blushing in a decidedly girly manner with innocence I know she doesn't believe in spewing from her.

I swear Judy nearly broke an ankle trying to do as she 'asked'.

"Sure thing, sweet heart," The blonde woman crooned. "I'll get right on it."

And with that the Wicked Witch and the Pain in-the-Ass Lion made a break for it through the kitchen doors. Heh, I just did a whole wizard of Oz thing there and I didn't even notice it! Wow, I'm getting old...

But anyway, it has always _amazed_ me how great a manipulator Hilary is. I mean think about it: she got Tyson to let her onto the team when he was so stubbornly against it, she got _Tala_ to give up his C4 collection he was keeping under his bed _and_ she got Ian to clean his room! Now if that's not a talent than I don't know what is.

After giving a sweet little wave to leaving (read: fleeing) Judy and Lee she turned again and smiled at Oliver.

"Oliver, is dinner ready? And if not how much longer until it's done?" she asked, smile still firmly in place even though I can tell she's starting to lose it a bit.

I can't blame her either, it takes a lot of energy to sort out peoples' problems for them; never mind doing it nicely. It's much easier to just glare and grumble.

Trust me, I should know.

But onward we go and all that, back to the point of the current drama.

Oliver smiled back in a way that my mind marked as the strictly French version of a shark's smile. His answer I'm afraid wasn't much more welcoming.

"Yes, Hilary, it's ready. It would have been done sooner if _some people," _here the small Frenchman sent a downright poisonous glare at Julia, who promptly returned it with the aid of Tala. We all politely ignore Oliver's shiver.

I send an assessing glare over my best friend and the circus star before nodding to myself. Yes, I do believe that they'll make a pretty good couple, terrifying, but good.

Hilary just smiled and ignored the little glare match that went on before her.

"Alright then, why don't you go check everything over one more time and Tala do you think you could go gather everyone in the dinning room for dinner?" Wow, that was sneaky. Tala was just about through the door when she tossed that little order in there. Very nicely played indeed, my angel.

Tala groaned and turned back to her, "do I have to, Hilary" Hilary's smile turned into a smirk as she makes a hand gesture for him to get a move on. Tala groaned again but just as he starts to move again none other than _Julia_ blocked him.

I quirk and eyebrow. This could be interesting.

"Wait! I'm go with you!" The tall-ish Spanish girl stated with determination in her voice. "There's no way in hell I can deal with Oliver's nitpicking any longer!" She hissed viciously in the direction of the dinning room door where I believe Oliver headed to after Hilary gave him his assignment.

I smirked to myself as I watched Tala school his expression into one of confident happiness as he smirked at Julia before opening the door for her with a softly spoken; "Ladies first."

Julia smirked through the blush on her face and walked out with Tala not more than a step and a half behind her.

I stifled an amused snort. Oh yeah, those two were going to make an amazing, if not horrifying, couple.

And I'm still staring at the door in mild amusement when I feel someone tap my shoulder, turning around I feel a pair of familiar arms wrap around my neck and even more familiar but never boring cherry flavoured lips collide with mine.

Smiling into the kiss I wrapped my own arms around her waist and lifted her up. Chuckling softly when she pulled away grinning.

"So what am I supposed to do then, Miss Hilary?" I asked, kissing her cheek.

She giggled and looked up at me with a wicked glint in her eyes. "Stay here and keep me amused until someone else starts pitching a fit." She replied simply. I smirked at her.

"With pleasure, love."

* * *

**Well here it! All 2,941 words of it! The longest flipping chapter of this story, and I really hope it made up for the wait! I even threw in a little KaiXHil at the end so none of you can say I'm not putting enough in! So there. Anyway, I hope you loved reading this and all my other chapters and will enjoy my other chapters to come!**

**Please Review! All who do will be blessed by the all mighty Lord Happy Bunny!**

**Sincerely,**

**BlackRoseGirl666**


	9. My Arch Enemy Gave to Me 1 Black Eye, 2

**Spencer Pov:**

Well, today has certainly been interesting.

Oh, who am I kidding? Today has been hell. Plain and simple. And to think it all started because of one measly little snowstorm... sigh.

Anyway, I guess I should fill you in on what's been going on recently, hm? It might answer your questions as to why I'm in such a touchy mood, you know, if you missed the whole Invasion/Cake Batter Incident.

And for those of you who didn't miss the aforementioned above, I guess an explanation of the current events would just give you more answers as to why I'm in a pissier mood now than I was then.

Whatever. Either way you're getting an explanation because, plain and simple, I need to rant.

You see, after I finished patching Bryan up from his little escapade with Mariah (I so saw that coming) I continued to herd said idiot and his girlfriend (I think) up to the dining room where Oliver and Julia (I believed) had set up dinner only to find something akin to a war zone.

Apparently, the complete bedlam I (with Idiot and Mariah in tow) had walked into had been started off by (as most wars usually are) an alien party trying to move in on someone else's property.

Or, to be more specific, Ming-Ming was trying to get closer to Kai while she was sitting beside Hilary.

You see, apparently someone was stupid enough as to let Hilary sit beside Ming-Ming and Ming-Ming sit beside Kai (this kind of seating arrangement always leads to something bad) and then Ming-Ming started chatting up Kai (not that he would notice) and "accidentally" flicked a spoonful of mashed potatoes at Hilary.

Hilary, of course, was understandably pissed by this and took it as an act of war or, more specifically (once again), an act of food fight.

Now, please remember that Hilary has spent roughly a year and a half give or take a few month pretty much living with us 24/7, meaning that she's picked up some of the nastier, but no less key to survival, side effects from living with a group of highly trained and immature teenage boys.

Side effects such as: how to get back at your opponent during a food fight without being suspected of actually getting back at them.

Okay, so now that you're all caught up with that little bit of background info; here's what happened next.

Hilary, instead of batting her own drink over so it spilled all over Ming-Ming, whacked over Tala's drink while he had his head turned.

Now, this would have worked out swimmingly if Hilary had been just slightly more careful as to which direction she batted said drink in; for you see instead of the nearly full glass of highly staining grape Fanta spilling forward and going all over Ming Ming's extremely tight/short gold satin cocktail dress the Fanta went left and collided with Lee.

Lee, who was sitting right beside Tala (this mind you, is another extremely stupid seating decision that should have never been allowed to happen) and thus making Lee think that Tala had "attacked" him with the drink on purpose.

And Lee, as you all know, has been looking for a way to "avenge" the loss of his sister's "innocence" all night so you can bet your ass that he retaliated.

He did this by throwing a half-eaten bun at Tala's head, who, after years of training in the diligent art of dodging random objects as they come flying at the back of your head, ducked.

Thus letting the runaway bun whack the ever hot headed Johnny in the face before rebounding into his soup and splattering it all over him and, by association, Ming-Ming, who was sitting across from him.

Now, hold onto your hats people because this is where things get a little cloudy.

From what I gathered from my interrogations, I can deduce that after a couple minutes of high pitched screaming and heavily accented swearing Johnny proceeded to hurl his soupy bun across the room in a fit of anger without an intended target.

The bun, which was closely followed by a hand full of overdressed salad from the Blue-Haired-Banshee, went careening across the room and eventually hit a couple of targets.

Those targets being Rick and Crusher who had been sitting near the end of the table, talking peacefully about weight lifting and that sort of thing.

Peacefully.

They made sure to stress this point during the interrogations.

But, anyway, moving on.

After this I believe a full fledge war began to take shape which would up including a few overturned chairs, a broken shelve, a couple punches/kicks, god only knows how much destroyed food, a weeping Oliver, several pissed off/clueless bladers, many insults and some possible brain trauma in the case of Miguel, who had the unfortunate instincts to try and calm everyone down only to be conked over the head with a neon green lightsaber that Ian (somehow) got a hold of during the fighting (don't ask me how).

Now, I bet your wondering how this ended, correct? Well, here's the short answer.

SPLAT! "Take that bitch!"

SQUASH! "Right back atcha whore!"

It hasn't.

* * *

**Ian Pov:**

I laughed evilly as I army crawled over to the corner of the dining room Emily and I were using as a base, a table cloth with several different kinds of assorted dinner rolls wrapped in it tucked under my arm as I hoped behind the book shelves we were using as shields.

"Hey Em, I got more ammo," I said, grinning.

Emily smiled back at me and picked up a bun, wincing as she saw Miguel, who had only recently regained his senses after I cracked him over the head with my lightsaber, take a wooden spoon to the face before falling down once again.

"You don't think we should try and calm this down, do you E? It's starting to get a little out of control." She said nervously, her hand going up to readjust her glasses.

I just smirked and pointed out Judy Tate.

The stupid woman was standing in the center of the room, waving her arms around and shouting for everyone to sit down and shut up like a crazy person, right there smack dab in the open.

How dumb of her.

"It's fine Em, no one's going to be too damaged, besides, how often do you get to get back at people you hate via throwing food in their faces without getting into serious shit?" I asked, throwing her my most mischievous grin, which she matched evenly, her ivy green eyes getting an impish glint.

Looking over at me she smirked. "You are ever so right me dear Ian," and with that a soup soaked biscuit went soaring through the air and hit one Mrs. Judy Tate smack dab in the back of her no longer perfect platinum blond hair, the shock of impact causing her to slip on a half-eaten pie and land on her ass.

This of course sent Emily off into hoards of laughter and me into snickers right along with her.

I grinned at her through my snickers, happy that she'd gotten her retribution on Judy Tate and her over-controlling-ness.

I can't remember how often Emily's ranted to me about how she's not allowed to do certain things or talk to certain people because Judy didn't want her to fraternize with the 'enemy.' It's what had originally drawn me to her, that and her snarky-borderline-sadistic personality.

Because if there's one thing I know about besides pranking and general chaos, it's being controlled. Thus why I'm the best for her.

Well, either that or I'm just too big headed to take anyone else into consideration.

"Yo, Ian!" Her voice called, breaking me out of my thoughts. I turned to her to find her grinning evilly.

"You going to help me get her in the face or what?" She asked, tossing me a bun. I grinned back and nodded.

"You bet." I said, taking the bun.

She nodded, winding her arm back. "Take this is, bitch." She hissed under her breath before letting it fly and hitting her boss in the face. I laughed and tossed mine too, not caring if it hit the target so long as I could stay here beside Emily.

* * *

**Ming-Ming Pov:**

Growling under my breath I grit my teeth as I continued to hide under the table, my knees sitting in something that I think might be cake but honestly, I'm not too sure. Biting my lip, I pulled the edge of my dress down some more. Bloody thing wasn't made for rolling around in the damned dirt, that's for sure.

Sighing, I flipped my curled blue hair over my shoulder, silently wishing I had a better option for shelter than this stupid table but it didn't seem like that prayer would be coming true anytime soon. This was so degrading. Blinking angry tears out of my orange-amber eyes, I continued hiding.

I shouldn't be forced to do stuff like this anymore! I've already survived training under fucking Boris for the last ten years of my life. I've done enough demeaning crap to last a fucking lifetime.

I should be with Kai, all dressed up and pretty and living in some penthouse suite and LA! Not getting into childish food fights with a bunch of creepy/psychotic people who like to throw stuff at each other!

And don't you dare think I'm just sore about losing my little squabble with the Hilary-Bitch! I don't even get why she hates me so much! I mean it's not like she's actually dating Kai, is she? I mean, I know she's interested in him (heh, who isn't?) but shouldn't you expect some competition when you try to date someone so high profile?

Sighing angrily I looked down at my dress; the beautiful amber-on-gold silk brocade of the skirt was stained with smatterings of I-don't-even-want-to-know all the way up to the high empire waistline and the beaded bodice would have to be all restrung, if I even decided to keep it…

And not to mention my hair! And my nails!

I mean god, why would anyone even do this? I mean, I can understand a little flinging (such as what I did) but this is just ridiculous.

And worst or all, that damn Tatibana is using it as an excuse to get closer to Kai!

How could anyone ever respect her? She's just some hopeless little groupie that the team felt sorry for! I heard the Tyson didn't even want her there and the only reason the team let her on was because they were all too nice to tell her to screw off. I mean, she doesn't blade!

And it's sooo obvious that she only joined to try and get closer to Kai.

But then, I guess I can't really blame her there, I thought with a giggle. Kai is one of the best, if not the best (which I seriously think he is), blader in the BBA. It's not uncommon for people to get desperate and do stupid things when they know they can't get what they want.

* * *

**Kai Pov:**

Well, this has certainly been entertaining, I thought to myself as I sat beside Hilary over in the back corner of the room.

Spencer, Bryan and Mariah had all taken refuge in the same place as Hilary and I while Ian had ducked for cover with Emily over in the opposite corner to us and Judy Tate, Ming-Ming, Garland, Brooklyn, Lee and a few others hid under the table.

Crusher, Rick and the rest of the All Stars were standing open in the middle of the room wailing food at anything that moved while Oliver was crying by the door about something pasta-related.

The Bladebreakers were all fighting amongst each other, or well, they all were with the exception of Tyson who was acting as 'the Savior of Food' and was trying to, and I quote: "Stop the Madness!"

Tala, Julia and Raul were fighting off the All Stars with Johnny and the other Majestics while the Battalion stood around their unconscious captain, fending off both the other groups.

All in all (as I've said before) very entertaining.

But anyway, I do believe it's time to try and put an end to it. I have a meeting tomorrow with several different lawyers about putting some finishing touches on Voltaire's life sentence and as well as that I also need to start preparing for when Boris tries something, seeing as the police still haven't been able to find the slimy bastard and I'm starting to think that something might be up.

"Okay, guys and Julia, Ming-Ming, Judy, Mathilda and Emily." I barked out loud, making sure to glare and growl extra-scary. Everyone froze.

I smirked to myself. Yup, I've still got it.

"I do believe that you've had enough destruction for one day, plus, I don't know about you but I have things I need to do in the morning so please put down your food and let's get out of here." I said, one eyebrow raised as if to say: playtime's over now children, it's time to start acting like grown-ups again.

Chuckles and nods broke out from all those involved as relieved sighs escaped from those who had been hiding under the table or just hiding in general.

I threw a smirk on my face and helped Hilary to her feet, focusing on keeping it casual and not being tempted to kiss away the chocolate smear that coated half her face.

Turning my head back I noticed Miguel was still out cold, and this time I really did smirk. Trust Miguel to be the only person to get physically injured during a food fight.

"And could someone please pick up Miguel?" I called back lamely as I went to open the door only to find that there was no longer a handle on the door.

And this is about when I felt my stomach drop.

* * *

**Wow. Just wow. I can't believe how long it's been since I've updated this thing... But anyway, I hope you all liked this and I do profusely apologize for the wait on this thing!**

**PLEASE REVIEW! I NEED THEM!**

**Bye!**

**BlackRoseGirl666**


	10. No One Likes This Kind of Holiday Gift

**Bryan Pov:**

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN WE'RE STUCK!"

I looked on in amusement as Kai narrowed his eyes angrily at Johnny and explain, once again, what he meant by the amazingly even "we're stuck" he had uttered earlier this evening.

"What I mean, Johnny, is that: We. Are. Trapped. In. Here!" Kai hissed out, each word seemingly paining him. Johnny tried to hide a flinch and then glared back at him.

Heh, sucker.

After this little outburst "several people" (i.e. Ming-Ming) around the room shrieked and started pouting while every one else handled the situation rationally.

Or at least as rationally as a bunch of semi-sugar high rich kids, who, out of some miracle, were classified as professional athletes could.

A.K.A: Chaos erupted in the form of a bunch of panicking teenagers.

Sighing, I pulled myself up from my comfy spot on the floor and went over to the door, which no one noticed, as they were all to busy blaming each other for what happened to the door like, well, to put it bluntly, a bunch of teenagers in a slightly dangerous situation.

Kneeling down I pulled out a small black leather wallet sized case that I kept with me at all times and flipped it open to reveal a remotely large collection of lock picks. Looking over them for a second I picked out the two I thought would work the best and inserted them into the hole where the doorknob had once been.

"What _are_ you doing Kuznetsov?" Ah, McGregor, when the hell are going to learn to keep your snotty little nose out of other people's business?

"What does it look like I'm doing McGregor?" I growled out, cursing a second later as I felt one of my picks about to snap. Carefully pulling it out I picked up a denser one and started playing with the locking mechanism again.

"How should I know? Do I look like a commoner?" No, but your hair at least looks like a duck's ass.

I growled again and looked up, noticing that I now had the attention of the entire room. Glaring, I turned back to what I was doing; mentally muttering to myself about how much I hated people and how Mr. Dickinson better appreciate this as I did so.

"What I'm doing, you duck ass, is picking the lock." I sneered, glad to see the rage on Johnny's face.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending how you look at it), Count McPurple (totally stole that from Tala) then clapped a hand over Johnny's mouth before the Duck Ass gave me a liable reason to slug him one and then (horror, upon horror) he started talking (Gasp!).

"So you think this could help us get out?" He said all noble-y and shit, raising an eyebrow at me! _Me!_

Okay, 1. Does anyone else get pissed off _just_ by his accent? And 2. Was the purple hair a birth defect or did he do it just to piss of his parents?

I shot him my (in)famous: Ya think? Look and caught Rick trying to smother his laughter, I grinned back at him before turning to McPurple.

"I wouldn't be doing it if I didn't think it would work." I said in an utterly exasperated tone that I often used when trying to piss off my beloved captain or Ian.

I was pleased to see his eye twitch.

Next to speak was Oliver (yeah, I know, I'm confused as to why the Majestics are taking such an interest, too) with the astute question of:

"Ou' avez-vous learn to do that?" Which (after a factored out the annoying accent and translated the actual French words into English) I replied to with a manic grin and:

"You don't grow up in all boys school in Moscow, Russia without picking up a few things." Before turning my back to them and dutifully ingoing the synchronized snorts that came from the other Blitz Boys and Hilary.

Ten minutes later I was still fighting with the locks (yes, I did say plural, we're a bunch of paranoid bastards, we are) when someone dropped down beside me. I turned my face up to see Mariah's twinkling eyes frowning down at my picking case.

"Try that one." She said, pointing at a slim, bendy one near the middle.

I looked up at her, one eye raised in a way that made me think of McPurple. "You know how to pick?"

She grinned at me and shrugged, "you don't hang out in the streets of Chinatown without learning a few tricks." She said, batting her eyelashes at me and holding the pick out to me.

I fought the urge to kiss her right then and there.

* * *

**Hilary Pov:**

I looked over at Kai worriedly; he was sitting on one of the non-damaged dining room chairs leaning back on it with his fingertips at his temples, as if he was trying to chase away a migraine. My common sense supplied that he probably was.

Ever since that doorknob had broken off and locked us in here he's been so tense, like he's waiting for something to happen.

Something bad.

I don't think anyone's noticed it yet, not even the other Blitz Boys. Tala's been busy with Julia and Bryan's working on the door, Spencer's chatting with little pinkette Mathilda from the Battalion and Ian's over in the corner with Emily, much to Judy's annoyance, so they haven't exactly been paying attention...

_No one's_ really paying attention, come to think of it.

Smirking, I got up from my seat and went to sit beside Kai.

Hey, if they were to busy with each other to notice anything then why couldn't it work for Kai and me?

"What's wrong?" I asked quietly, leaning closer to him.

Kai let himself fall forward on the chair gently so that it now sat flat. "It's just a feeling, like something bad is going to happen."

So I was right, and for once, I don't feel good about it.

"Do you think it has something to do with Biovolt?" I asked, my voice dropping. It wouldn't be smart for anyone in this room to hear this conversation, at least not until Kai and I had a chance to speak to the other Blitzkrieg Boys.

Kai frowned but didn't say anything, and I, with all my imminent knowledge of what the Blitz Boys and I call Kai-Speak (much like Tala-ese but with more silence and facial expression and less rapid fire chatter and swearing), decided to take that as a maybe.

"If it doesn't involve them then what could it be?" I questioned, confused. There was a lot I don't know about Kai's life but I'm dead sure that the only openly violent enemies he has are Biovolt-related.

Kai sighed. "They're the only option I can think of to, I guess… I just don't want it to be them. Not so close to the trial."

I nodded, and squeezed his hand for a second before letting go; he shot me a grateful look and I tried to hide my worry.

Kai had told me all about the trial, which had somehow managed to keep its self out of the papers (not overly surprising when you think about who's trying to hide it). It was going to be one of their last chances at getting Voltaire either the death sentence or life in prison.

Personally, I'm not sure which one I want him to get.

Shaking my head to clear away those thoughts I glanced back at Kai. He look so tired, it made me wonder how anyone could miss it.

I was just about to kiss him, regardless of the possible audience, when I heard Bryan shout something over the chatter that had consumed the room.

"Oi! Kai, I think we got a problem!" I noticed how Bryan had pushed Mariah behind him. She looked pale, scared.

I frowned as Kai pulled himself to his feet and walked over to the door, crouching beside Bryan and talking in low tones.

I bit my lip nervously, something wasn't right here…

Making up my mind I pulled myself to my feet and walked over, crouching beside Kai and ignoring Mariah's suspicious look. No one else noticed though, which was good. I didn't want to answer any questions if I didn't have to.

"What's going on?" I hissed quietly, looking at Kai for answers. Mariah shot me a confused look but I ignored her. I'd apologise later but even I could sense that something was seriously wrong now.

Kai sighed like he was about to explain something but Bryan cut him off, an unusually grim grin on his face.

"We're about to have fireworks display is what's going on, princess." He said.

I glared.

"Bryan, what the hell are you talking about?" I growled quietly, not having the patience for his games.

"Biovolt." Kai replied, softly, "and they've got guns."

I stared at him. "Guns?" I croaked, my voice sounding strained even to my own ears.

Kai nodded. "Yeah, they're not playing anymore, not with Voltaire and his cash on the line."

Mariah turned wild eyes on me. "The guys aren't joking Hil, there are some big freaking guys out there with _guns! _Freaking machine guns!" Mariah squeaked, she was trembling so bad that I could see her hands shaking.

I winced a little; I didn't needed Mariah to convince me. I'd spent enough time with the Blitzkrieg Boys that I knew what the Biovolt men could do; I'd seen the scars.

I shot a look at Kai. His face was hard and cold, his lips thinned into a harsh line and his eyes glinted dangerously. I shivered.

"What are we going to do?" I asked quietly and way more calmly than I thought I could, Mariah looked at me like I was crazy.

"What do we do? We called nine one one ad get as far away from the guys with guns as possible!" Mariah said, or really, shouted, towards the end there.

And of course this gained the attention of the entire room, who now all stood around looking at us with shocked expressions.

"What was that, Mariah?" Tyson asked, not bothering to cover his shock.

"Nice, Riaha." I whispered to her, she glared at me before Bryan hugged her.

"Biovolt goons?" That came from Tala, who I now noticed had his hand wrapped around Julia's hip.

Kai nodded silently and Tala swore. "So what are we going to do?"

"What Mariah said," Lee stated, "we call the cops and hide."

"And I suppose you brought your cell with you? Because I don't have mine and we don't have a land line in this part of the house!" Tala hissed back.

Lee growled. "Well, does anyone else have their phones?"

Silence.

I sighed. "Okay, so we have no phones, no other way out of the apartment. What do we have?" I asked, looking up at Kai.

He bit his lip and frowned. "They don't know the door's unlocked and I don't think they know we're here so I guess we have the element of surprise. Plus, I'm assuming we all have our blades with us?" he paused for a moment and everyone nodded.

"Okay, the Blitz Boys launchers double as actual guns as well so we have those, and Rick don't give me that look, I know you're carrying to, as well as that, well, we don't have much." Kai said, mumbling the last bit.

More silence.

"Okay, but what do these guys want?" Emily asked, playing with the edge of her food smeared dress.

Rick snorted. "I thought you were the smart one? What do these creeps usually want? Our blades, us or something else painful."

Judy stepped forward, "now, now kids I'm sure we can handle this peaceful-"

"Lady, are you kidding? These guys are serious! They're not going to stop and talk. They're going to shoot!" Bryan said, looking at Judy like the woman had lost it. I couldn't find it in myself to disagree.

Judy glared, "oh, and what makes you think that? You're not even out of school yet! I'm sorry to tell you Mr. Kuznetsov but you are not an adult! I am, so my decisions preside yours-"

"Mom!" Max had stepped in front of the woman seemingly intent on keeping her from pissing Bryan off anymore than she already had.

"Maxi, I know your friends with this_ boy _but-"

"But shit you bitch!" Well, it seems that Spencer's finally had enough.

The burly blonde had pushed himself up off the wall and was now glaring down at the shorter Mrs. Judy Tate, who looked thoroughly scandalized by the whole thing.

"I've never-"

"Shut up! I'm done listening to you! You don't know what you're talking about, we do! We've dealt with this, you haven't! Hell, we've grown up with this, so unless you have something relevant to contribute than just shut up!" Spencer finished; looking far scarier than Tala and the others could ever hope to be.

With Judy now sufficiently shut up and everyone else shocked into submission Spencer turned back to face the rest of the room.

"Now, what I suggest we do is-

Spencer didn't get the chance to finish.

The Biovolt solders must have been tipped off by all the yelling (big shock, there) as they now came barrelling though the door.

Spencer, who had had his back turned to the door, hadn't had time to react as one of them aimed something that looked suspiciously like some kind of futuristic taser/gun (not a machine gun, Riah, sorry) at him and fired.

The tall, three months from nineteen-year-old fell like a brick house, twitching for a second before lying still. Somewhat dazedly I recognized Mathilda scream and lunge for him only to be held back by Miguel, she then dissolved into sobs.

Everything from there out was a blur, Rick's tall form launched itself at the nearest soldier while Tala and Kai drew their launchers and in less than ten second had them loaded, but this time not with their blades.

Crusher had rushed over to help Rick with a couple of soldiers, Miguel had Mathilda in his arms and shock painted on his face as he crushed himself further into the corner he was standing nearest. I spun around wildly when I heard Ray cry out only to see him to fall unconscious from the taser thing.

Suddenly more people were falling to the floor, more shrieks filing the air. I heard curses from a soldier Kai had shot in the knee coupled from the gurgled sound of Ian diving to the ground after being punched by one of the soldiers.

Emily screamed as one grabbed her and got her with the taser, Judy and Max fallowed her.

I saw another one go for Mariah and I lunged at him, digging my fingers into his eyes only to receive a harsh elbow to the stomach. I gasped and fell backwards, cranking my head on the dirty wood floor, I groaned but pulled myself up in seconds, adrenaline fuelled by my survival instincts keeping me on my toes.

I spun around as another cry filled the air, this time from Tala who was now spouting blood as red as his hair from his nose. I winced but didn't have time to do much more as I was being attacked again.

I turned on my heel and threw my knee up, getting the guy in his groin. He went down hard, cursing me as he pulled himself back up, I tired to step backwards but I tripped over the unconscious form of Julia.

Breathing hard I still pushed myself back, stuttering apologies I knew she couldn't hear but I said anyways. I had only realized I'd backed myself into a corner once a bumped into the wall.

I scanned the room and was disappointed to see that only myself, Kai, Garland, Brooklyn, Johnny and Mystel were still up and they were cornered as well.

I let my eyes connect with his red ones, he smirked at me but I could tell it was forced.

He was just as worried as me.

The last thing I heard as I fell was my own garbled scream mixed with his.

* * *

**Yes, yes I do realize that I've been keeping you waiting way longer than I should have but hey, look at the bright side! No one had to remind me to update this time!**

***Unimpressed cricket noises***

**Okay, tough crowd! But moving on!**

**I hope you all liked the whole Biovolt thing, it just kind of attacked me half way through dinner and I had to put it in! It sets the scene perfectly for the rest of the story!**

**Anyway, I would now like to beg for both Reviews and updating forgiveness, I have recently found myself writing yet another new series (this time for the little known fandom of the Divergent Trilogy) and I hope none of you are mad at me because of it!**

**Please Review!**

**Bye!**

**BlackRoseGirl666**

Aside crackling either


	11. The Nightmare Before Christmas

**Hilary Pov (Unknown Amount of Time Later):**

When I woke up, it was in a large stone cell surrounded by twenty-odd other bladers and Max's mother. I was cold, grimy and had a headache that rivaled the dreaded Hangover of New Years 2010 and for the life of me I could not spot Kai anywhere.

My first thought: What a way to spend the holidays.

My second thought: Oh, fuuuuuuuuuck!

With jerky, painful movements and some choice curses that would make even my Aunt blush I hesitantly pulled myself up so that I was sitting with my legs stretched out in front of me and my back against the cold stone.

Once up (somewhat) I closed my eyes and catalogued my body, just like Kai told me to do, for injuries and, from what I could tell, other than the splitting headache and some bruises and stiffness, I was fine.

I let out a shuddering breath and looked around for Kai again, hoping against hope that I'd spot him, but again I couldn't find him amongst the collapsed bodies of the teens I've spent more than a year of my life working with and battling against. And now that I really looked I realize that I can't see any of the Blitzkrieg Boys. At all.

"That's okay," a voice that sounded amazingly like Kai's coaxed through my mind, reminding me of one of the many lessons I've been taught throughout my time with the Blitz Boys in case something like this happened.

"If we wind up getting caught with other people they'll either keep us in separate places completely or take the guys and I as soon as we're up. Don't panic if we're not there". I gripped on to those words like a lifeline and searched through my blurry memories to find the other lessons the guys had given me.

And soon they came back to me, each one making me both a little more scared and a little more confident; and making this a whole lot more real.

"Remember, keep your head. If you're with other people who aren't Abbey types, you're in charge. Don't let anyone questions that. We trained you. You know what to do."

"Don't spread yourself out. Keep together, keep close; it'll help you keep warm and present a united front."

"Check if there's someone with medical experience in the group. If not then just try to keep any wounds clean and straight as you can."

"Don't eat or drink anything you're given unless one of us has tested it first. You never know what kind of nasty shit they've hidden in it."

"Remember to send a signal to the others as soon as you're able…"

My head snapped up at that. The signal! Fuck, how did I forget that? With my hands numb and shaking I reached down my shirt and pulled out the small, circular medallion-type thing that I always wore hidden and dangling from an invisible cord around my neck.

Silver and vaguely reminiscent of some kind of sic-fi movie paraphernalia this little disk would quite possibly be what got us out of this disaster and back to our apartment if all went well.

Holding the little disk that was about the size of a quarter in both hands I snapped it in half, making the little lights on either side light up and start blinking red. I watched with baited breath for it to turn green.

And after an undetermined amount of time that stretched out for way longer than it should have, it did.

There, I thought wearily, back up is now officially on the way.

That's what the little button does you see, when you snap it in half it sends out an undetectable electric plus that gets picked up by every other little disk in the world. There are only seven in existence, one for each of the Blitz-Boys, me and Kai's backup, who I've never met.

When the little light blinks green you know your message has been received, and seeing as I highly doubt the guys haven't been searched for anything like this, I'm willing to bet the one who received it is Kai's mysterious backup.

I heaved a giant sized sigh at that and leaned back against the stones, my eyes closing against my will. Would it be a bad idea to take a nap right now? I know the guys had a rule about it but I just can't seem to pull it from my memories…

"H- Hilary?"

My slowly drifting shut eyes snapped open wide as I bolted up from against the stone, connecting immediately with the dazed brown ones of one Tyson Granger.

He was rumpled and damp and I could just make out the bruises on his knuckles in the darkness and his swollen black eye that he must have gotten at some point. His ever-present hat was gone (likely lost in the chaos) and he was pale but otherwise alert, which is always a good sign.

I sighed and gave myself one second to pray for strength before opening my eyes again and focusing on Tyson, who just looked at me with wide, scared puppy dog eyes.

And as a wise man once said, let the games begin.

"Tyson, we're in the Abbey. I don't know the date, but…"

* * *

**Tala Pov (Unknown Amount of Time Later):**

Rule number one of surviving the Abbey and all the sickness associated with it is to keep as bright, sarcastic an outlook as you can. I'm not joking. All the ex-Abbey inmates I know who aren't insane (yet) are some of the most caustic, deadpan, pessimistic assholes you will ever meet.

And they learned it right here, surrounded by and chained to and bleeding on these stone walls.

What can I say? If you don't leave the Abbey a pro-blader at least you can take comfort in the fact that you survived hell and came out an expert smart-ass because of it.

Or at least you can take comfort in that fact that you've left the Abbey at all. Christ knows how many kids I remember who haven't.

Or maybe they did. I don't know. I guess it all depends on your beliefs about ghosts who die violent deaths and all that shit…

But whatever, the point is that to survive the Abbey it helps to be a master of Gallows Humour (and yes, it does need to be capitalized because it's just that awesome!).

Basically what I'm talking about is a type of grim or ironic humour usually reserved for deadly situations or those hopeless spots we find ourselves in every month or so. It's kind of like an advanced version of sarcasm, I guess except it's reserved solely for life-threatening situations.

Because really, we all know that nothing beats a dose of good old-fashioned sarcasm when you chained to a freezing wall and being beaten within an inch of your life.

See? Primo example right above!

But, even being as sarcastic and badass as we are, even we of the Abbey sometimes find it difficult to maintain our 'bright' attitudes.

Sometimes, heh, you just get hit (or shocked, or degraded or drowned) one too many times and suddenly, it just gets to fucking hard to keep on being a smartass. Especially when you know that just makes them hit you harder.

This would be one of those times.

I've officially lost count of how many days it's been (though between you and me I'm not actually sure if it's actually been a day or not. The hell that my life has turned into just kind of keeps going and dragging on and on and on) and I'm having difficulty remembering how exactly I wound up here. The guys have been gone for I-don't-know-how-long and I gave up calling for them once my last shout had me tasting copper.

I'd figured I'd lost enough blood as it was.

That fact that I'd started to loose feeling in my right arm had only reaffirmed my point.

I winced a little and hesitantly tried to move around a bit, tried to find some kind of way to lessen the pain in my legs and body, which I will admit was a stupid idea, since it just sent more little shocks through the metal links on my cuffs into my wrists and the rest of my body, trying to weaken me enough so I'd fall and they could start beating the shit out of me again.

That's the point of this, you see. It's an endurance training-type-thing and a punishment all in one.

The endurance being standing up, chained, after being beaten for around an hour or two. The motivation to keep standing it the pain of being electrocuted every time you move. If you fall they'll beat you again.

Fucking lovely, eh?

…

That's what I thought.

I yelled. I'll admit that. Fuck, I'd like to meet the fucker who doesn't start cursing and yelling after the day(s?) I've had. But let me tell you this, it was not a frickin scream.

Not a cry for mercy or any of that shit. Not again.

Never. Again.

It was a growled, gurgled sound that even the idiots controlling the little shock box up there could tell wasn't something as frickin broken as a scream.

I chuckled dryly at my thoughts, fuck am I being pathetic. I mean I'm ranting about screaming for crying out loud!

I'm not quite sure if you can fall farther than that…

I sighed and let my head lull forward, not having the energy to keep it upright and glaring anymore. God, what would Julia think of me now?

Julia. With her fiery green eyes and challenging smirk, it just depressed me to think about her, how she'd treat me now that she's seen this part of my life…

If she was even alive by the end of this.

Mercy is weakness and weakness is death.

Cheerful motto to learn at six, right? Heh, this place is just bursting with life lessons like that…

I'm just glad they don't know I care about her (I pray, I'm still not sure if they'd had the apartment bugged or not) otherwise she'd probably already be dead, if only as a way for them to show me that that they still control me.

That's why Kai and Hilary are so tight-lipped about being together. Not really because of the backlash they could get from the BBA or some shit like that, but because it would make Hilary a target for Biovolt.

That's why we try to keep people away.

I shook my head tightly and screwed my eyes shut as something like acid burned in my throat. Fuck, how could I let this happen? How could we? How could Dickinson let this happen? Wasn't he supposed to know how to prevent this kind of shit or something?

I cringed and hissed as my legs buckled, sending me to my knees. For this more electricity spiralled through my blood.

Electricity. Their prime weapon of choice when it comes to me, seeing as fire leaves behind scars that are ugly and a pain in the ass to heal and the cold, if anything, has positive effects on me. Water is the only other thing I truly try to avoid after this sparky shit and even then I tend to drown too easy for their enjoyment.

When this shock treatment ends I can barely haul myself to my feet. My vision's blurry and for once in my life I wished my heart wasn't reinforced to withstand this kind of treatment. For the first time I wish it would just end…

And then I heard the shots started ringing out, closely followed by the loud, high wailing of the alarms and the tromping of boots on stone.

From what I could tell in my disoriented state the loud bangs and pops were probably the product of a showdown between several handguns. Then there was silence for a few seconds before I heard the sharp click-load-and-rip that came with switching a gun-launcher back to its normal beyblade-launcher self.

And then the doors flew open with a loud crash that made me wince, clearing the way for, I counted quickly, fifteen kids (too short to be adults) dressed head-to-toe in black combat wear, complete with full fingered gloves to prevent fingerprints and bandanas tied over their faces.

I grinned a little brokenly when I spotted their leader.

Carlos Hiruta stood a muscled 5'10 amongst the other bladers in the group who, from the way they fought and quickly dispatched the guards, I could tell had been in the Abbey themselves at some point.

The now seventeen-year-old was decked much like his crew in black cargos and a sweatshirt in black with scuffed black boots but instead of hiding his face like the others Carlos's bright red bandana was tied around his messy black hair, revealing his smug smiling mask to the world as he and two other kids came up to me, immediately starting on the cuffs around my wrists and ankles.

I'll admit that it was kind of awkward, being saved by Carlos and his gang, even if they were Abbey. See even back then Carlos had always been Kai's friend; in all honesty I'd never even met the kid more than twice.

But that all kind of just stopped mattering once it became clear how much of a struggle it was to keep myself upright once the last of the cuffs came undone.

Fuck, the only reason I didn't face plant from pure exhaustion alone was because the two kids who'd picked the locks caught me before I hit the dirt.

As if my pride wasn't wounded enough.

These kids didn't make a sound though, obviously used to dealing with 'my type' after living in the Abbey and then on the streets, blading, for so many years.

Thank who-ever-gives-a-rat's-ass for small miracles.

As it was they just kept me from face planting into the stone and gingerly helped me into a jacket of some sort (seeing as everything but my pants had been taken from me upon entrance to hell).

"Are you alright, Mr. Ivanov?" Ex-Abbey Kid One (who I should really get the name of) asked. She was a big girl with a strong jaw and curly brown hair I once remembered stabbing another kid with a sharpened fork when the stabbed kid tried to beat up a friend of hers.

I just nodded mutely, not trusting myself to speak without tossing whatever was still in my stomach out. I suppose that's what getting continually zapped does to you.

She nodded once herself and I pushed myself up from my semi-crouched position with the help of the boy (who must have been at least three or four years younger than me) and took a few wobbly steps over to Carlos, completely uncaring of the middle-aged male screams coming from the broken observation window in the cell.

Hum… seems like that kids are getting some fun out of this...

Not that I blamed them, fuck, if I was well enough Wolborg and I…

Wolborg.

My hand flew to my pocket and to my everlasting relief my fingers found her. She was colder than usual, like reading-to-freeze-and-shatter-a-beyblade cold, but I figured that was a good thing everything considered. It was probably what kept them from taking her from me when I was out.

Lord knows nothing else would.

Taking in a deep breath that made my chest and ribs ache so bad a think I started to hate myself a little I gripped onto the shredded remains of myself control and straightened my legs out enough so that I wasn't leaning quite so heavily on Ex-Abbey Kid 2 and the Fork Girl.

Having myself now somewhat under control again I turned to Carlos.

"What happened? The others?" I choked out, wincing internally at my scratchy voice.

Carlos looked at me with relieved black coffee brown eyes. "They're out of here, you guys and the BBA group. Kai, Bryan, Ian and Spencer have already been taken to hospital, which is where you should be headed now instead of quizzing me." Carlos added dryly.

I snorted and motioned for him to continue talking. He sighed but gave in, obviously used to dealing with Kai and his need for information.

"Anyway, you guys have been stuck here for about eight days." At my shocked look Carlos nodded, "yeah I know, me and my guys would have been here sooner but Hilary only managed to send us the signal on the second day after she woke up and then there was the whole actually finding you thing and the fucking BBA…" Carlos let his sentence drift off before coming back again.

"But anyway, you should get out of here ASAP. Me and my guys are going to go ditch these clothes and then meet you at the hospital." Carlos said with a smile before snapping something in Japanese (which I don't speak, that's Kai), giving me a sarcastic little wave and walking off to God-knows-where.

I just sighed and let myself be lead off by Abbey Kid 2 and Fork Girl, content to just not think for a while.

It's already two days past Christmas and I idly wonder if they'll be able to stop the bleeding.

* * *

**Jeez, maybe I should put 'angst' as one of the categories for this thing, hum? Certainly seems to be going that way.**

**I'm not going to even bother trying to apologize for how late this is so really all I'm going to say is thank-you to everyone who reviewed, and hope you do so again!**

**Sincerely,**

**BlackRoseGirl666**


	12. The Waiting's Driving Me Insane

**Mariah Pov (5:39 pm):**

Well, isn't this a fine-fucking-how-de-do, I think morbidly as I refold my arms over my drawn-up knees, smother the yawn in my throat and return my eyes to the sight I've been staring at for the last millennia.

And it could have really been a millennium too, for all we'd know. Time kind of lost meaning at some point during our stay in that – place (it feels like a disgrace to the word 'place' to call the Abbey that), and so far it hasn't gathered much more.

Officially, I'm free to leave the hospital now, I know that much. After a night spent on observation after they got all my different levels and stuff (I wasn't listening to the specifics) up and normal I've been good to go.

But I haven't.

And I'm not the only one either.

Tyson, Max, Ray, Kenny, Rick, Emily, Julia, Raul, Mathilda, Miguel, Hilary, some kid named Carlos who only Kenny, Hilary, Max and Tyson seem to know (albeit vaguely) who is apparently a friend of the Blitzkrieg Boys' have all also decided to camp out in the hospital while some other people have all gotten hotels and drop by regularly, usually bringing gifts of coffee and chocolate with them.

Those people (mainly the Majestics, the rest of The Battalion, White Tiger X with the exception of Lee, Tyson's older brother and father and Max's dad and Judy) have all left by now though, headed back to their hotels for the night.

Which, I guess is probably a good thing, seeing as just having our current group here has probably been a little hellish for the hospital staff. Thank Gods for the Blitzkrieg Boys all being room together, hey? Note the sarcasm there.

You could probably count this as one of the roundabout times when super sports stardom comes in handy. You know, seeing as the hospital staff only decided to let us stay (and put the Blitz-Boys in a privet room together) when they realized just how big the media circus was going to be.

A media circus, which has yet to die down.

At all.

Seriously, they actually found a paparazzi guy trying to sneak in via the emergency room yesterday. It's frickin ridicules.

It's pretty quiet in here though, with the only real happiness being when that Carlos guy handed us back our blades.

Other than that though everyone's just been pretty much lost in thought, with the exception of Hilary and (surprise, surprise) the 'Mysterious' Carlos.

When they aren't sleeping lightly or chatting or just staring numbly in front of them, they have their phones out and glued to their ears, continually talking in languages I didn't know they knew and I know I certainly don't understand.

It's actually a little scary, watching them.

Well, I guess not them so much as Hilary. Hilary, who I thought I knew the best out of anyone outside my team. Hah, only now, after being captured and drug from New York to Russia (yeah, did I forget to mention that bit?) do I even know she was dating anyone, never mind the fact that she's apparently tight with the Blitz Boys and knows how to chat in fuckin' Russian!

Bitter? Me? Nah!

And how am I doing with all of this? Well, I don't know how I'm reacting. I mean, I haven't broken down wailing yet right? That's got to be a good thing, though I have noticed I've become noticeably more sarcastic...

Meh. Must be a side effect of the last week.

But really, how am I supposed to react to all of this? This wasn't what I was prepared for, nor did I expect it. I've never had to deal with anything like this.

Things like this just don't happen to people like me.

They happen to people like Tyson, who are always off winning something or saving someone and doing it with that perfect smile; and they happen to people like Ray, who go against the norm and everything they've ever known in search of adventure and wisdom and come back better for it.

Not to small, pink-haired teenage girls looking to drift away for a while.

I sigh despondently and wrap my hand tighter around Bryan's pale one, careful of the bandages that hide the bruises and injection marks that run up and down his arms.

His bigger hand dwarfs mine but I can't help but think of how delicate he looks.

They nearly lost him, you know. His heart was so weak from the drugs that it nearly gave out half way to the hospital; he was even on life support for a bit before he finally stabilized.

Isn't it funny how I can say that that was one of the scariest moments of my life even though I've only really known him for a little under a week? Ridicules really, but it's true.

Absently I lift my eyes to scan the rest of the room. It seems that each of the Blitz-Boys has something of a guard beside them, like Bryan does me.

Tala's bed is to right. Julia is at his side; her fingers are numbly laced with his. Her face is drawn and I can't help but think she looks a little confused (aren't we all?). Raul is a distance away, sleeping with his back against the stark white wall.

Next down the line is Spencer; his large body is just as bandaged as the others though I notice nothing is broken. Nothing on any of them is. It's strange, considering how viciously they were beaten, but I wave the thought from my head.

I have other things more important to ponder over.

Mathilda is beside him, reading a book so quietly under her breath that I don't think even she can make out the words.

After them are Emily and Ian. Ian's the least hurt of the Blitz-Boys, which I'm going to count as a good thing, if only because he's so young. Just a year younger than Emily. She's got her laptop out and is typing away about something, and doing it with so much focus I can't help but think she's just using it as a distraction.

Hilary and Kai are at the end of the row.

Looking at the two now it's hard to believe that we didn't notice they were together earlier.

But then, it seems like we didn't really know a lot about them individually either, so how could we have possible expected them to get together?

Kai's bandaged probably the most out of all the Blitz-Boys, and whereas with the others we kind of had to guess and pester the doctors, it's painfully easy to see what happened to Kai.

A whipping.

A really, really bad one.

There are other marks too, bruises on his face and arms and a circle of them around his neck that makes it look like someone tried to strangle him (which I don't put passed the creeps) but the whipping was the most obvious for us to notice.

How cold it not be? With the way that group of people who broke us out came with him sung between two of them, the white skin of his back ripped open and blue where blood hadn't painted it red?

Hilary had started crying as soon as she saw him.

Then that guy, Carlos, had snapped something at her in Russian and she suddenly went all blank and military-like until we got here and Kai and the others went to surgery and her phone started ringing and she turned into some kind of super-secretary that everyone wanted a piece of.

Now she's sleeping though, curled up carefully on Kai's bed and tucked into his side.

With silent sigh on my lips I let my head drop down again, my eyes leaving the others to scan Bryan's blank face.

Again.

The swelling's gone down drastically since we got here and the blood was whipped away a while ago but his pale skin is still a patchwork of purple and yellow-green. The skin that hasn't been bruised is so pale I can see a few veins here and there and though he hasn't lost any muscle (which should be impossible but apparently is not) the doctors agree that he was starved and only given minimal water.

I tuned out after that, though I noticed that Hilary was recorded the list via her Iphone, God knows why.

Or maybe he doesn't; Hell, I know I certainly don't. But then I don't seem to know a lot as of late, like how this all could have happened because of one measly little snowstorm…

But I do know one thing: Even if this is just some teenage crush; some, two-week-romance and we're destined to eventually wind up with me hating him again… losing him like this will wreck me. Regardless of what anyone says.

It's with these thoughts on my mind that I tear my eyes away from his face (because if I don't I will start crying) and instead decided to look out the window closest to me. Snow is whipped through the air by wind that I can feel even through the glass and the sight of it reminds me what kids (because as much as we say otherwise we are still kids) my age should be doing right now.

Singing carols, sitting by fires, watching those crappy Christmas specials everyone above twelve loves to hate…

I blink owlishly. This will likely be the first year I spend Christmas in a hospital. How strange.

My eyes flicker one last time to the others, the other Blitz-Boys specifically.

How many times have you spent the holidays like this…? At that moment, that seems to be the question everyone wants the answers to but no one dares ask out loud.

I close my eyes and stare through the self-imposed darkness they bring at the white, stark wall I know is in front of me. My hand winds its self tighter around Bryan's and I find myself silently hoping for a miracle.

It's two or three days until New Years and I pray I won't be welcoming in the next year by attending a funeral.

* * *

**Julia Pov (7:21 pm):**

White's not his colour. He's too pale already for it, with his shocking red hair and icy eyes, his only real colour. Black, I think, fits him better, though personally I don't really like it myself.

Black's what I'd be wearing if he died.

I've always found that strange actually, why we always wear black when we go to a funeral, or why when we try to put a face to Death the figure is always dressed in black clothing of some sort. I honestly think white would be a better choice.

Our skin doesn't go black when we die; no, it pales and our lips go blue and then maybe grey but unless your burned to death or get blown up you don't go black. We also pale when we're scared or nervous and our bones are white when they're old enough that they're the only things of us left.

Black though, I guess, is just as bad really; with probably just as many reasons, but sitting here in this white room, looking down at his white face and skin (which is mostly covered by white blankets and bandages) I can't think of any of them.

I find it strange really, looking at him like this; his face emotionless in his exhaustion/medication/I-don't-know induced sleep with all this white around. It vaguely reminds me of the him I thought I knew before all of this started.

A more fragile version perhaps, but still, this unconscious Tala is a lot closer to my original opinion of him then the one I joined in the hallway some number of days ago.

A smile curves my lips as I toy with his fingers, my mind taking me back to then. My spur of the moment decision caused by my desire to get away from Oliver (which seems downright childish now), my blushing at his unexpected words, the confusion at how he acted around me in general…

Now don't get me wrong. I'm no stuttering, blushing, little monastery-raised Sandra Dee-before-she-goes-badass kind of girl when it comes to boys. If you think that's the deal, then you people need a reality check.

I know I'm good looking (our talent might have been what kept my brother and I in the circus but face it, it was our looks that got us noticed), as a team me and Raul make around a million an appearance for beyblade alone (when it's not a charity event) and I'm single. I didn't have a hope in hell of retaining much stutter inducing 'innocence' when it comes to boys, fuck; it's usually me protecting Raul from his fan-girls!

But still, the way Tala acted around me is strange.

Most boys, regardless what they say, don't want a girl with my, er, temperament. Which, I've been told, on a good day, is that of an alley cat and on a bad day, well… lets just say 'raging bitch-face' probably isn't too far off.

Safe to say this has kept many a hand off me unless they want something, in which case I just get ready to deal out a verbal bitch-slap and get prepare for the impact.

Tala, on the other hand, has this odd habit of completely turning around my insults and jabs and leaving me stuttering in the hall with just that cocky grin as a reminder. He's akin-ed me to an explosion more than once and yet, there's always something in his wicked blue eyes that leave me feeling like it's a complement, not a condemnation, like with everyone else.

Like I said, strange.

And the more I experience it, the more I find myself wanting it.

The more often he opens the door for me with a little smirk, the more I want to be certain that little smirk is reserved just for me. When he carelessly throws my comments back at me, the more I want to debate with him longer. The more times his arm brushes against mine in the elevator at the BBA, the more I get the desire for him to hit the emergency stop button and just frickin kiss me.

This has never happened to me before. I've always been the one with the power, the control. It's always been them, the guys, who run panting after me. It's always been them wanting my kiss. Always been them flustered, unsure…

I bring my hand up absently and brush my lips. They're dry and cracked and I wince at the thought of him kissing them in this condition. Then I wince again as my eyes land on his bruised face and my guilt triples.

How can I think like this when he's lying here so nearly dead? God, I'm so fucked up.

Dropping his (cold, pale, white) hand onto the sheets I shut my stinging eyes and lean back fully into the remotely comfortable chair I've sat in for who-the-hell-cares-how-long. Slipping both hands over my face until my fingers get lost in my hair. I suck in a breath and just hold it, not thinking, for a full minute before slowly letting it escape and falling forward again, my elbows landing on my knees with my forearms crossed.

I ignore the rest of the room (who have not fallen asleep) who have looked up at my sudden movements.

I smirk grimly as my hand sneaks out and clasps his in a way very near without my realization.

Here's hoping that he doesn't mind my fucked-up-ness or attitude because, damn, Tala is the only thing in recent memory that has managed to hold my continues attention (other than free-falling from high things and Beyblading) and I'll let the Devil walk me into Hell before I let him slip through my fingers.

Possibly fatal wounds, psycho-media/public and other crazies be damned.

* * *

**Mathilda Pov (8:42pm):**

My fingers grips the edges of the book I've been reading so hard the flesh around my nails is bright white when I realize I've just read the last passage for the third time over. Eventually I stop reading and just stare at the lines of black ink, using it as a way to keep from looking at Spencer's prone form.

It's a good book, really. About a girl named Liz (short for Elizabeth) who has the perfect life until the day after her birthday party when she wakes up dead. From there the story twists and turns and soon you realize nothing is ever really perfect…

Least of all life.

My eyes slip away from the book for a second before I pull them back but it's too late, the image is already burned there, right along all the other ones.

Spencer is still tall and muscled. His face is still chiselled and his hair is still the same soft honey brown-blonde I've wanted to run my fingers through since I first started talking to him.

On the other hand though, his eyes are closed, not searching the room for his siblings or narrowed in aggravation and his body is lax in a way that scares me. And his skin, from what I can see that isn't bandaged…

'Bruised' is an understatement.

Just the sight of him brings back memories from my own time with coach Barthez.

Of course it was never this bad, and never to me personally aside from a few slaps and slurs against my gender and competence, but I remember nights when Miguel would come slinking back into our room with black eyes and bloody noses and bruises and once, even some lashes from a whip.

I remember staying up waiting as soon as I saw his bed empty, I remember sneaking into the bathroom with him and carefully treating his wounds. He was so loud sometimes when I treated him that I had to have him bite down on a towel so his cries wouldn't wake the others or alert the guards lurking in the halls.

It'd gotten better once we started competing. Miguel had easily proved himself best on the team and Barthez had realized early that beaten bladers didn't often win matches, regardless of how good they were. That had kept him safe right until the BBA helped as get free from the creep all together.

Seeing the Blitzkrieg Boys though, like this especially… I can't help but feel that we got off lucky.

Lucky the BBA was so vigilant; lucky the cops were so fast to catch Barthez; lucky we weren't trained in that horrible Abbey…

Just plain lucky.

It's scary actually, when I think about it. I mean, this could have been my teammates and I if we'd been with Barthez just a few years longer, or if the cops had been slower catching him.

It makes me wonder if Mr. Dickinson had seen that too and that's why everything went so smoothly with my team. If he'd seen how easy it would be for us to end up in the same kind of mess…

My eyes trial over to where I'm used to meeting Spencer's warm grey-brown. I bite my lip so hard I taste blood when I connect with nothing.

It doesn't' matter where we are, since our first meeting (a get together between our teams at a beach in Spain planned by Kai and Miguel) I've always been able to find his eyes and hold them with mine. Not being able to do that might just be the hardest part of this whole horror show.

With absent hands I mark my page and shut the book, setting it down on the floor because it's too heavy to be in my arms right now.

Watching Spencer's even breathing I let my body slowly relax, my pink eyes droop until they're closed but I'm not asleep yet. I haven't slept since I was let out of my own hospital bed.

I won't admit that I'm scared he will die if I sleep.

I feel someone's hand on my shoulder; I almost try to pretend its Spencer's but the squeak of sneakers on the floor throws my delusion off. Spencer never wears sneakers. Always black combat boots or quality hikers, and, despite his size, something tells me even if he did wear sneakers they wouldn't squeak.

The person (who I decided is Miguel even before he speaks) asks me if I'm awake but I ignore him. Better he think I am and not worry, he's got such a habit of worrying…

He sighs once before walking away, asking if anyone wants anything and that he's going for a coffee run. There's a murmur of answers (no's, grunts and a few actual orders) before the door opens and closes and it goes quiet again, sans the comforting beep of the heart monitors.

I don't move.

It's right there and then that I decided that this whole thing might just be easier to deal with if I just don't move until Spencer does.

It's so unfair. So completely unfair. I spent so much time being so ridiculously timid around him, so much time treating him like he might hurt me. It's not fair that he gets taken away now that I've just realized how stupid I was…

My thoughts chase each other around like this for hours before something from the deep reaches up and drags me down. Dragging me into a sleep I'm silently terrified of.

Please, please, please let him still be there when I wake up…

* * *

**Emily Pov (10:14pm):**

I accept my coffee from Miguel with a small nod (quietly ignoring the fact that it shouldn't have taken him this long to find a coffee place, even this late at night) before sipping half of the black liquid lifeline slowly for a bit. Then I sit it on the table at the end of Ian's bed and turn back to my laptop. My eyes sting and tear so badly that I can only just make out what the words on my screen say. My hands are freezing despite the heat in the room and my head aches perpetually but I don't stop typing. Clicking. Searching. Reading. Recording. I'm to a point now that I nearly don't notice the strain.

I'm in my world now, I world of words and numbers, sequences and symbols. Things that are predictable, to some degree. Things that make sense.

I nearly find them boring, and that near mind numbing boredom makes them comforting. Not enjoyable or entertaining, but something that I am used to doing. Something that doesn't scare me.

Not like this.

Hesitantly I glance over the top of my computer and catch a glimpse at Ian's still body. The picture his stillness paints makes me recoil. Ian should never be still like this. Never quiet like this. Never hurt like this.

I return to my keyboard and return to imputing my data with a vengeance. Bright pie graphs and tables, percentages and fractions, they flash on the screen and I keep typing; my confidence (personal arrogance) in my ability keeping me from checking to make sure everything is going smoothly.

And it does; everything goes perfectly, predictably smoothly until about three hours later when I run out of numbers and data to input.

My fingers freeze over the keys; my mind races to figure out my options. I could put the computer away, to conserve the battery (I only have half a power bar left); I could sleep then (And it would also leave me with time to think) but I'm not tired (I don't want to think).

In the end the computer seems too decided for me and dies, leaving the screen blank and me thankful I had the presence of mind to save everything as I went along.

With practiced ease I slip the thin computer into its bag before leaning back fully into the reasonably comfortable hospital chair. Staring out blankly in front of me I can't help but long for my bed.

As my eyes start to slip closed though (exhaustion has finally started to settle now that my computer's dead) I glimpse Ian's black eye and pale skin and it sends a shock of pain through my chest and sleep deprived brain.

I'm too rational to believe it's real, physical pain but that doesn't stop me from cringing and wrapping my arms tighter around my chest; making me thankful the lights went out two hours ago and I haven't heard anyone stir since around midnight.

Gritting my teeth I slip off my glasses, place them in my jacket pocket and draw my knees up onto the chair; resting my cheek against my jean clad legs (Russia's far too cold for a skirt) I stare angrily out into the not-really-darkness.

Ian's supposed to be my friend, if just barely that. Yes, you're supposed to feel bad when I friend's hurt, cry when they hurt you and feel sick inside if they left but looking at them is not supposed to hurt you.

I've read enough to know that.

Does that mean Ian's more than my friend?

I screw my eyes closed and make a conscious effort to go to sleep before that quick thought has a chance to make it into my head but it, of course, doesn't work.

Instead I can't help but think, visualize… could we be? I'll admit, it's crossed my mind but never for more than a second. Never for longer than it takes for me to remember that boys don't like girls like me, as Michael (and others) have proven and reminded me time and time again.

But… then, Ian's not really like the others is he?

I smile bitterly and, after a few halting attempts, I managed to touch his hand. It's bandage covered with calloused fingers but It's still the first time I've touch someone not related to me by blood with any kind of intent not profession-related.

It feels lovely.

Pulling my hand back I look at the other girls with the aid of the light from the hall and the parking lot lights that streak in through the windows, silently wondering at how comfortable they look falling asleep still touching their respective Blitzkrieg Boys; hell, Hilary's sleeping right beside Kai for God's sake!

I look back at Ian, and silently think to myself: is there something wrong with me that keeps me from touching you like that?

The thought nearly makes me cry. Ian deserves someone wonderful and lively, someone who isn't afraid to hold his hand. Not a stuffy, bossy (ugly) computer chick like me.

If I were a good girl, a proper friend, I would accept that and back off while that perfect girl he deserves comes up and takes him. I'd be their for the wedding or maybe, maybe I'd just go quietly and be forgotten.

But, I think, I've established that I'm not a good girl, or a proper friend. I'm graceless and driven; I don't back down or give up when I've found something I want and dammit, I think I want Ian to be more to me than just a friend.

With new determination I reach out and wrap my fingers around his bandaged ones and settle myself down more in the chair. Blanking my mind I focus on his fingers and play out reactions that might happen when he wakes up.

None of them end well but I don't care. I've decided that when it comes to Ian I want to be in the picture, even if the percentage of romantic successes my mind produces is a low one.

My head's too heavy to keep upright now, so I let it slump to the side and rest of the chair. This gives me a nice view of mine and Ian's joined hands and I slip into dream land with a tiny smile on my face.

Now all that's left is to hope and pray that he wakes up.

Holy fuck, this is the biggest chapter ever done for either this story or House Guests. Suppose it's because it's got so many different POVs in it but I couldn't help it! I had just finished Mariah's POV and was going to start Hilary's when my muse went:

"Hey! Don't you think you should maybe give the reader's a hint at the other pairings, too?" So here you go.

* * *

**Anyway, this chapter is pretty much the heaviest the story's going to get (unless someone suddenly dies; insert maniacal laughter here) so you can all take a breather now and hopefully get ready to laugh and coo over pranks, awkward situations, confessions of love and the typical dry humour I tend to pride myself on!**

**And hopefully shorter A/N's….**

**Oh, and don't forget to Review! At the risk of sounding totally pathetic, I'm starting to feel seriously unloved here!**

**Speaking on the situation of love: Great thanks to the fallowing wonderful reviewers!**

**DGMSilverAirHead03, Garfakcy-chan and cOOlzanimeaDDict! You guys freaking rock!**

**Sincerely, BlackRoseGirl666**


	13. When One Year Ends, Another Starts

**Hilary Pov:**

I grinned brightly as I looked around the ballroom, thinking about how much better the cream-colored walls looked in the darkness than they had covered in green and red decorations the month before. Smoke came drifting lazily from the DJ's area over in the corner opposite the door and covered the bland cream tiles, giving the entire room a more exciting feeling.

Music pounded through the room with a steady beat, so loud that I could only hear the lyrics when I clapped my hands over my ears and Technicolor lights danced over every available surface, encouraging everyone in the room to dance with them.

This is Mr. Dickinson's way of trying to make up for how gut wrenchingly horrible our holidays have been. A dance planed by us bladers for us bladers all on the BBA's tab with no restrictions applied. It doesn't make up for the horrors we faced in the Abbey, not by a long shot, but it helps a little.

The people I've known and grown with for three or four years, all dressed in white and black to help pick up the lights better, have gathered mostly in the center of the room, grinding and withering just like you'd expect a group of normal teenagers to.

There are no signs that any of us have been held hostage, no inklings that five of us could have very well died.

The sight makes me grin to very near inhuman heights.

Somehow, it seems that we've all managed to heal from our experiences in hell; maybe even learned from it, become better people for it. It's a dangerous thing to think about, that anything coming from that hell could be good, but... just look around the room.

Up by the DJ are Tyson, Max, Johnny, Oliver, Enrique and Ming-Ming. Ming-Ming, dressed to the nines in a striking (-ly short) half-white half-black likely designer dress and patent-leather stilettoes, is pushing up against Enrique (who, before she'd never be caught dead with) while the blonde is holding her way closer than society deems polite and whispering something in her ear that makes her blush and giggle.

Tyson, Max,Oliver and Kenny meanwhile are completely oblivious as to the obvious 'amore' that's going on about fifteen steps to their right and are standing in a line, trying to learn some kind of Scottish jig (or at least that's my guess) from Johnny who is so obviously drunk I'm surprised he can still stand, let alone jig.

There are numerous things wrong with that scene, but let's start with the first, hum?

Enrique and Ming-Ming. No one's sure how it started, no one's sure why it's started, all anyone really knows is that now that they're together Ming-Ming is about a thousand-billion times easier to be around, Enrique rarely ever flirts with anything in a skirt (mostly because he's too busy watching how far Ming-Ming's ride up when she walks) and Kenny spent a week alone in his room wailing about the torments of love.

I, personally, believe they connected over something high fashion (mostly because that, being rich and being beautiful is all they seem to have in common) and one thing just spiraled into another until somehow a week after the Blitz-Boys were released from the hospital a tabloid article was printed showing pictures of the two sun tanning together on a beach in Italy.

Then again, I of all people probably shouldn't be commenting on the public appearances of people and their relationships.

But, as my Aunt says, "it's those who know the least that have the most to say".

Which, really, could be the quote that sums up all of what's happened since we were rescued from the Abbey.

The speculation that has surrounded this thing since, as we found out later, all of us showed up at that hospital in Russia, has been _enormous_.

People have been throwing inquiries everywhere. There are so many political officials under fire right now from so many different places that it's hard to believe that there will even be a government after all of this is finished. And then no one's really sure what to do to the 'people' who freed us, which, personally, I don't think should even be a problem up for too much consideration right now seeing as no one even knows where those 'people' are!

Little do they know that those "highly trained and brutal vigilantes," as one astute reporter put it, are really just a rag tag bunch of kids who were trained for a failed try are world domination with a grudge.

Speaking of grudge-bearing, military-trained kids; Carlos has gone missing. Poof. Gone. Just dissipated right into thin air a day or two after Kai drifted back to the world of the living. The only thing I managed to weasel out of my boyfriend on the subject was that Carlos would be "fine" and should he be jealous about how much I cared for the street-blader?

I promptly whapped him on the shin before pulling him into a kiss that got several wolf whistles from the assorted bladers who'd been camping out in the room at the time.

If that wasn't a clear enough answer for him then I don't know what would be.

But anyway, the reason I was so insistent on knowing where Carlos was is that I never even got to say thank-you to him for saving all our asses, which is something that seriously pissed me off. Almost as much as the little smirk my dear red-eyed boyfriend keeps giving me when I ask him about it, now that I think about it.

Something tells me this won't be the last we hear from Carlos, which I think is a good thing, since Carlos was one of a very small number of people who kept me from losing it when I saw my Kai for the first time in that dank hallway of blood-stained containment cells.

That image, of my poor, pale boyfriend propped up between those two grim Abbey kids, blood flowing in rivers down his torso and splashing their bright colors against the floor, will never, ever leave my nightmares.

Nightmares that, surprisingly, _I_ seem to get more often than the guys do.

Yeah, sure; I've noticed that we now have movie nights that last sometimes way into the morning, and that the percentage of money we spend on 'sleep aides' has gone up a few notches and that Mariah, Emily, Matilda and Julia all seem to have semi-permanent rooms in our current residence (a string of apartments we're renting until Voltaire's (now Kai's) mansion in upper Bey City is finished being redone) but other than that… nothing's really changed.

Or, at least nothing's really changed for the guys. They're still brothers, still tease each other, still pound on each other and still train each other into the dirt. Sure, more of them might be dating now (make that all of them, Ian just asked Emily out the day before), but to them the Abbey was just another few days in their lives, something that they've all dealt with before.

For the rest of us though… well, let's just say it wasn't just another day in life for us.

The physiatrists, the adults, the doctors… they don't know shit. Yeah, we weren't beaten or touched or had anything done to us, but that's the thing. They did nothing to us. We were left alone, in the dark, quietly struggling through the pain of being kept on the borderline of starvation and three steps away from dehydration, for... I don't want to remember how many days.

The only time we moved after the first frustrating days of trying every bar in the cell door for weak spots and failing was when, once a day, they took us, one-by-one, for a washroom break.

The paranoia, the desperation, the sadness, the darkness, the lack of hope… it was horrible. And it was nothing compared to what the Blitzkrieg Boys were going through.

That was the worst thing for most of us. The knowledge that whatever was happening to us, it would be worse for the Blitz Boys.

And then, you know, ninety-five percent of us who had been locked up in that cell had never, ever even considered being in that kind of situation. The Majestics, the White Tigers, the All-Stars, F Dynasty… nothing that they had ever been made to do was anything like what they were being made to do then.

The Bladebreakers and I, well, not saying that we'd ever been in that _exact_ situation but we'd all been kidnapped before, so at least we'd had experience in that (if you could call it experience) but even then… it was nothing like any of the other times. Those times there was a purpose, some _reason_ to why we were there. Clear odds we could work against, some kind of loophole we could work with… not this time.

It was probably the worst on Tyson; our resident hero, our go-to-guy for a plan, for hope.

It was the knowledge that there was nothing we could do, no way to save ourselves; that our only hope lie in someone realizing we were gone and putting the pieces together and finding us.

It killed him emotionally.

I don't think anyone, myself included, realized how much we depended on his up-beat personality, his can-do attitude and his _defiance_ until he was too weak to do much more than stare on into the dark.

The Battalion… well, they were kind of in the middle of it all. They didn't freak out like Lee from the White Tigers and they didn't rage like Michael from the All-Stars or Julia from F Dynasty nor did they go all depressed like everyone but Johnny and Robert from the Majestics and Rick from the All Stars but… they didn't react like anyone else either.

They were just kind of… there. They were quiet. Lost in thought, I guess; a lot of us tried to do that at first.

If you want to know something really strange, it's that out of all of us who were locked in that room, it was probably Ming-Ming and the other BEGA bladers who dealt with it the best.

Sure, Ming-Ming bitched, but she didn't bitch about normal stuff like being so hungry you want to die or so thirsty you willing to do just about anything for a drink. Instead, she bitched about how they'd better not keep us there past December because she had appointment with her stylist she just _couldn't_ miss and how a multi-billion dollar corporation should be able to afford better, _cleaner_ holding cells than those and so on and so forth.

It was so _ridiculous_ and she sounded so damn _serious_ that we actually laughed.

Yeah, in hell, we laughed.

And that's probably all that kept us sane.

The other BEGAs were like that, too. With Garland recounting blithely how things would have turned out in different books and movies, like what we happened if we were in an episode of NCIS or in a James Patterson book series. Brooklyn would mumble randomly about how these obscure animals with these freakishly long names would behave in our situation and Crusher would muse on how he would get revenge when we got out.

It was one of the most surreal, horrifying situations I've ever been in.

But, you know, it did bring us closer together (it's hard to be pretentious, arrogant asshole when you're starving and your "enemies" and their stories and actions are the only things holding you together) and, maybe, if I could get the sight of my boyfriend and closest friends a step and a half from death out of my head, maybe I'd be less bitter about it.

…

Ha, yeah, fuck no. That was a lie. The only time that'll happen is when I'm dead and gone.

I lean back against the wall and twirl the martini glass in my hand, it's a virgin one so I'm in no danger of being drunk but that doesn't stop me from dropping down a few levels from my usual amount of maturity and sticking out my tongue at Ming-Ming when she suggests, very loudly, that I look like an old lady standing up against the wall as I am.

I merely retort that at least I'm not molesting my man on the dance floor, at which both Enrique and Ming-Ming grin at.

And now all of you are looking at me like I'm crazy.

Sigh.

Yeah, I guess you could say things between Ming-Ming and I have gotten better (seeing as I'm not referring to her as the She-Bitch anymore), this is mostly because A) she's no longer clinging to Kai (she's got Enrique for that now) and B) she apologized for going after Kai, and said she wouldn't have done it if she'd known he was taken (thus our previous hatred for each other might have been _just_ a little bit my fault for keeping it secret) and C) I dropped a bucket of green jello-like goop on her head.

…

Now, you see, I didn't really mean to do that to her (well, I _did,_ that's why me and Ian set the trap up) but due to poor planning and unexpected apologies, I didn't actually mean for her to get gooped when it happened. See how that works?

Anyway, this kind of led to me apologizing to her (something that very nearly killed me) while she sputtered indignantly before… bursting out laughing.

Apparently, the girl can take a joke.

Who'da thunk it?

From there things just kept winding down until we agreed to let bygones be bygones and we decided to hang out sometime.

What can I say? The world works in mysterious ways.

"Hey, babe." I low voice rumbles from my upper left, the comfortable weight of a pair of arms wrapped around my waist accompanying it.

I hum happily and tilt my head back against his broad shoulder, carefully though because despite what he says I know for a fact that there are still a good dozen whip lashes on his back that aren't healed yet.

It's so nice to be able to do this. To just let him hold me like this at a dance or other public function and sway to the music together, to be able to show the world that yes, Kai Hiwatari is indeed _mine_. As nice as our relationship has always been this has always been something that we were missing.

'Not anymore though', Kai's actions seem to say as he trails kisses up the side of my neck with as much innocence as you can have in this kind of situation.

I laugh and spin around to face him, my eyes drinking in his form eagerly. He looks so good tonight, dressed simply in new black skinny and a pressed white dress shirt with an embroidered phoenix design on the back. His hair is deliciously messy and just light enough that the lights have an easy time of changing it different colors.

His smell, rain and wind and fancy detergent, completely overpower the lingering scent of the creams I applied to his back and shoulders when I helped him change his bandages this morning. The sexy smile curling his lips drives out the sight of his pained grimace. His hands on my hips make me forget how tight they were once clenched into fists.

I reach up on my tip toes and press my lips to his; pushing all of myself into it and taking all of him back with me when we finally pull apart, breathless and content.

"Hey," he says, still a little breathless from the impromptu make out session. "You want to dance?"

I blink a little, ready to tell him that the doctor specifically told him nothing straining until she felt comfortable enough to remove his bandages, but he just puts a figure to my lips and cuts me off.

"Come on Hil, I know you want to. Plus it's the last of the night and it's a slow one too." He coaxes, already moving me onto the dance floor. And I'll admit, I don't need much convincing. How could I when he's smiling at me like that, his eyes glittering with mischief?

And besides, it is a slow song (a little ditty by Hedley, fittingly named _Sweater Song_) and it _is_ the last of the night and, well, personally the only thing I think Kai does better than kiss and beyblade is dance.

I don't know how, I don't know why; but it's a much guarded secret of his and it's one of the few I adore.

We slip onto the floor amongst all the rest of the bladers who have paired up with their respective girl/boyfriends (i.e. the Blitz Boys and Enrique with their respective ladies) and start swaying and twirling and gliding; Kai effortlessly leading much like the others are doing with their partners, the song drifting around us soft and soothing.

I smile as he pulls me close to his chest and just holds me there for the last few lullaby-like notes, his heart beat adding a steading background noise and I decided that while there may be no place like home, my home will travel with me so long as Kai is within my arm's reach.

* * *

**And that, my fine, amazing, probably-not-furry-but-I-don't-judge-friends, is the end! Feels pretty strange, eh? Anyway, there's going to be a new poll up on my page pretty soon and it influences you readers so could all you wonderful people out there do me a favour and check it out? Perferably after you're done Revewing, please!**

**Bye!**

**BlackRoseGirl666**


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